CAMPAIGNS 


A  NON-COMBATANT, 


ROMAUNT  ABROAD  DURING  THE  WAR. 


BY 

GEO.  ALFRED  TOWNSEND. 


NEW    YORK: 
BLELOCK    &    COMPANY, 

19   B  E K  K MAX   STREET, 
1866. 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1800,  by 
GEORGE     ALFRED     TOWNSEND, 

hi  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for 
the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


BcRTMCEorn,  WMITCS.VE  &  Co., 

Stcrrotuprrs, 
15  \VATF.U  STREET,  Bo.- TON. 


TO 


WHO  saw  the  war  as  vividly  as  he  sang  it  ;  and  whose  aims  for  the 
peace  that  has  ensued,  are  even  nobler  than  the  noble  influence  he 
exerted  during  the  struggle,  these  chapters  of  travel  are  inscribed  by 
his  friend  and  colleague. 


1144717 


PREFACE. 


IN  the  early  part  of  1863,  while  I  was  resident  in  London,  —  the 
first  of  the  War  Correspondents  to  go  abroad, — I  wrote,  at  the 
request  of  Mr.  George  Smith,  publisher  of  the  Cornhill  Magazine,  a 
series  of  chapters  upon  the  Rebellion,  thus  introduced :  — 

"  Few  wars  have  been  so  well  chronicled,  as  that  now  desolating 
America.  Its  official  narratives  have  been  copious ;  the  great  news- 
papers of  the  land  have  been  represented  in  all  its  campaigns ; 
private  enterprise  has  classified  and  illustrated  its  several  events,  and 
delegates  of  foreign  countries  have  been  allowed  to  mingle  freely 
with  its  soldiery,  and  to  observe  and  describe  its  battles.  The  pen 
and  the  camera  have  accompanied  its  bayonets,  and  there  has  not 
probably  been  any  skirmish,  however  insignificant,  but  a  score  of 
zealous  scribes  have  remarked  and  recorded  it. 

•"  I  have  employed  some  leisure  hours  afforded  me  in  Europe,  to 
detail  those  parts  of  the  struggle  which  I  witnessed  in  a  civil  capacity. 
The  Sketches  which  follow  are  entirely  personal,  and  dwell  less  upon 
routine  incidents,  plans,  and  statistics,  than  upon  those  lighter  phases 
of  war  which  fall  beneath  the  dignity  of  severe  history  and  are  seldom 
related.  I  have  endeavored  to  reproduce  not  only  the  adventures, 
but  the  impressions  of  a  novitiate,  and  I  have  described  not  merely 
the  army  and  its  operations,  but  the  country  invaded,  and  the  people 
who  inhabit  it. 

"  The  most  that  I  have  hoped  to  do,  is  so  to  simplify  a  campaign 

(7) 


8  PREFACE. 

that  the  reader  may  realize  it  as  if  he  had  beheld  it,  travelling  at 
will,  as  I  did,  and  with  no  greater  interest  than  to  see  how  fields  were 
fought  and  won." 

To  those  chapters,  I  have  added  in  this  collection,  some  estimates 
of  American  life  in  Europe,  and  some  European  estimates  of  Ameri- 
can life ;  with  my  ultimate  experiences  in  the  War  after  my  return  to 
my  own  country.  I  cannot  hope  that  they  will  be  received  with  the 
same  favor,  either  here  or  abroad,  as  that  which  greeted  their  original 
publication.  But  no  man  ought  to  let  the  first  four  years  of  his 
majority  slip  away  unrecorded.  I  would  rather  publish  a  tolerable 
book  now  than  a  possibly  good  one  hereafter. 


CAMPAIGNS  OF  A  NON-COMBATANT, 


ftomcmnt  abroad  faring  tlje  IDar. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MY    IMPRESSMENT. 

"  HERE  is  a  piece  of  James  Franklin's  printing1  press,  Mr. 
Townsend,"  said  Mr.  Pratt  to  me,  at  Newport  the  other 
day, —  "Ben.  Franklin  wrote  for  the  paper,  and  set  type 
upon  it.  The  press  was  imported  from  England  in  1730,  or 
thereabouts." 

He  produced  a  piece  of  wood,  a  foot  in  length,  and  then 
laid  it  away  in  its  drawer  very  sacredly. 

"  I  should  like  to  write  to  that  press,  Mr.  Pratt,"  I  said, 
—  "  there  would  be  no  necessity  in  such  a  case  of  getting 
off  six  columns  for  to-night's  mail." 

"Well!"  said  Mr.  Pratt,  philosophically,  "I  have  a 
theory  that  a  man  grows  up  to  machinery.  As  your  day  so 
shall  your  strength  be.  I  believe  you  have  telegraphed  up 
to  a  House  instrument,  haven't  you  ?  " 

"Mr.  Pratt,"  cried  I,  with  some  indignation,  "your 
memory  is  too  good.  This,  is  Newport,  and  I  have  corne 
down  to  see  the  surf.  Pray,  do  not  remind  me  of  hot  hours 
in  a  newspaper  office,  the  click  of  a  Morse  dispatch,  and 
work  far  into  the  midnight !  " 

So   I  left  Mr.    Pratt,  of  the  Newport  Mercury,  with  an 


10  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

ostentation  of  affront,  and  bade  James  Brady,  the  boatman, 
hoist  sail  and  carry  me  over  to  Dumpling  Rocks. 

On  the  grassy  parapet  of  the  crumbling  tower  which  once 
served  the  purposes  of  a  fort,  the  transparent  water  hungering 
at  its  base,  the  rocks  covered  with  fringe  spotting  the  chan- 
nel, the  ocean  on  my  right  hand  lost  in  its  own  vastriess, 
and  Newport  out  of  mind  save  when  the  town  bells  rang,  or 

the  dip  of  oars  beat  in  the  still  swell  of  Narragansett, 

I  lay  down,  chafing  and  out  of  temper,  to  curse  the  only 
pleasurable  labor  I  had  ever  undertaken. 
.To  me  all  places  were  workshops :  the  seaside,  the 
springs,  the  summer  mountains,  the  cataracts,  the  theatres, 
the  panoramas  of  islet-fondled  rivers  speeding  by  strange 
cities.  I  was  condemned  to  look  upon  them  all  with  mer- 
cenary eyes,  to  turn  their  gladness  into  torpid  prose,  and 
speak  their  praises  in  turgid  columns.  Nevor  nepenthe, 
never  abandonne,  always  wide-awake,  and  watching  for 
saliences,  I  had  gone  abroad  like  a  falcon,  and  roamed  at 
home  like  a  hungry  jackal.  Six  fingers  on  my  hand,  one 
long  and  pointed,  and  ever  dropping  gall ;  the  ineradicable 
stain  upon  my  thumb  ;  the  widest  of  my  circuijts,  with  all 
my  adventure,  a  paltry  sheet  of  foolscap  ;  and  the  world  in 
which  I  dwelt,  no  place  for  thought,  or  dreaminess,  or  love- 
making,  —  only  the  fierce,  fast,  flippant  existence  of  NEWS  !  » 

And  with  this  inward  execration,  I  lay  on  Dumpling 
Eockjj,  looking  to  sea,  and  recalled  the  first  fond  hours  of 
ray  newspaper  life. 

To  be  a  subject  of  old  Iloe,  the  most  voracious  of  men,  I 
gave  up  the  choice  of  three  sage  professions,  and  the  sweet 
alternative  of  idling  husbandry. 

The  day  I  graduated  saw  me  an  attache  of  the  Philadel- 
phia Chameleon.  I  was  to  receive  three  dollars  a  week  and 
be  the  heir  to  lordly  prospects.  In  the  long  course  of  per- 
severing years  I  might  sit  in  the  cushions  of  the  night-edi- 
tor, or  speak  of  the  striplings  around  me  as  "  my  reporters." 

"  There  is  nothing  which  you  cannot  attain,"  said  Mr. 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  11 

Axiom,  my  employer,  —  "think  of  the  influence  you  exer- 
cise! —  more  than  a  clergyman  ;  Horace  Greeley  was  an 
editor;  so  was  George  D.  Prentice  ;  the  first  has  just  been 
defeated  for  Congress ;  the  last  lectured  last  night  and  got 
fifty  dollars  for  it." 

Hereat  I  was  greatly  encouraged,  and  proposed  to  write 
a  leader  for  next  day's  paper  upon  the  evils  of  the  Fire  De- 
partment. 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Mr.  Axiom,  "  you  would  ruin  our  circu- 
lation at  a  wink  ;  what  would  become  of  our  ball  column  ? 
in  case  of  a  fire  in  the  building  we  couldn't  get  a  hose  to  play 
on  it.  Oh  !  no,  Alfred,  writing  leaders  is  hard  and  danger- 
ous ;  I  want  you  first  to  learn  the  use  of  a  beautiful  pair  of 
scissors." 

I  looked  blank  and  chopfallen. 

"No  man  can  write  a  good  hand  or  a  good  style,"  he 
said,  "  without  experience  with  scissors.  They  give  your 
palm  flexibility  and  that  is  soon  imparted  to  the  mind.  But 
perfection  is  attained  by  an  alternate  use  of  the  scissors  and 
the  pen  ;  if  a  little  paste  be  prescribed  at  the  same  time,  co- 
hesion and  steadfastness  is  imparted  to  the  man." 

His  reasoning  was  incontrovertible  ;  but  I  damned  his 
conclusions. 

So,  I  spent  one  month  in  slashing  several  hundred  ex- 
changes a  day,  and  paragraphing  all  the  items.  These  re- 
appeared in  a  column  called  ''THE  LATEST  INFORMATION,"  and 
when  I  found  them  copied  into  another  journal,  a  flush  of 
satisfaction  rose  to  my  face. 

The  editor  of  the  Chameleon  was  an  old  journalist,  whose 
face  was  a  sealed  book  of  Confucius,  and  who  talked  to  me, 
patronizingly,  now  and  then,  like  the  Delphic  Oracle.  His 
name  was  Watch,  and  he  wore  a  prodigious  pearl  in  his 
shirt-bosom.  He  crept  up  to  the  editorial  room  at  nine 
o'clock  every  night,  and  dashed  off  an  hour's  worth  of  glit- 
tering generalities,  at  the  end  of  which  time  two  or  three 
gentlemen,  blooming  at  the  nose,  and  with  cheeks  resem- 


\-2  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    NON-COMBATANT. 

bling  a  map  drawn  in  red  ink,  sounded  the  pipe  below  stairs, 
and  Mr.  Watch  said  — 

••  Mr.  Townsend,  I  look  to  you  to  be  on  hand  to-night; 
I  am  called  away  by  the  Water-Gas  Company." 

Then,  with  enthusiasm  up  to  blood-heat,  aroused  by  this 
mark  of  confidence,  I  used  to  set  to,  and  scissor  and  write 
till  three  o'clock,  while  Mr.  Watch  talked  water-gas  over 
brandy  and  water,  and  drew  his  thirty  dollars  punctually  on 
Saturdays. 

So  it  happened  that  my  news  paragraphs,  sometimes 
pointedly  turned  into  a  reflection,  crept  into  the  editorial 
columns,  when  water-gas  was  lively.  Venturing  more  and 
more,  the  clipper  finally  indited  a  leader ;  and  Mr.  Watch, 
whose  nose  water-gas  was  reddening,  applauded  me,  and 
told  me  in  his  sublime  way,  that,  as  a  special  favor,  I  might 
write  all  the  leaders  the  next  night.  Mr.  Watch  was  seen 
no  more  in  the  sanctum  for  a  week,  and  my  three  dollars 
carried  on  the  concern. 

When  he  returned,  he  generously  gave  me  a  dollar,  and 
said  that  he  had  spoken  of  me  to  the  Water-Gas  Company  as 
a  capital  secretary.  Then  he  wrote  me  a  pass  for  the  Arch 
Street  Theatre,  and  told  me,  benevolently,  to  go  off  and  rest 
that  night. 

For  a  month  or  more  the  responsibility  of  the  Chameleon 
devolved  almost  entirely  upon  me.  Child  that  I  was,  know- 
ing no  world  but  my  own  vanity,  and  pleased  with  those 
who  fed  its  sensitive  love  of  approbation  rather  than  with 
the  just  and  reticent,  I  harbored  no  distrust  till  one  day 
when  Axiom  visited  the  office,  and  I  was  drawing  my 
three  dollars  from  the  treasurer,  I  heard  Mr.  Watch  exclaim, 
within  the  publisher's  room  — 

"  Did  you  read  my  article  on  the  Homestead  Bill  ?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  Axiom;  "it  was  quite  clever;  your 
leaders  are  more  alive  and  epigrammatic  than  they 
were." 

I  could  stand  it  no  more.  I  bolted  into  the  office,  and 
cried  — 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT.  13 

"  The  article  on  the  Homestead  Bill  is  mine,  so  is  every 
other  article  in  to-day's  paper.  Mr.  Watch  does  not  tell  the 
truth  ;  he  is  ungenerous  !  " 

"  What's  this,  Watch  ?  "  said  Axiom. 

"Alfred,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Watch,  majestically,  "adopts 
my  suggestions  very  readily,  and  is  quite  industrious.  I 
recommend  that  we  raise  his  salary  to  five  dollars  a  week. 
That  is  a  large  sum  for  a  lad^." 

That  night  the  manuscript  was  overhauled  in  the  compos- 
ing room.  Watch's  dereliction  was  manifest ;  but  not  a 
word  was  said  commendatory  of  my  labor  ;  it  was  feared  I 
might  take  "  airs,"  or  covet  a  further  increase  of  wages.  I 
only  missed  Watch's  hugh  pearl,  and  heard  that  he  had  been 
discharged,  and  was  myself  taken  from  the  drudgery  of  the 
scissors,  and  made  a  reporter. 

All  this  was  very  recent,  yet  to  me  so  far  remote,  that  as 
I  recall  it  all,  I  wonder  if  I  am  not  old,  and  feel  nervously 
of  my  hairs.  For  in  the  rive  intervening  years  I  have  ridden 
at  Hoe  speed  down  the  groove  of  my  steel-pen. 

The  pen  is  my  traction  engine  ;  it  has  gone  through 
worlds  of  fancy  and  reflection,  dragging  me  behind  it ;  and 
long  experience  has  given  it  so  great  facility,  that  I  have 
only  to  fire  up,  whistle,  and  fix  my  couplings,  and  away 
goes  my  locomotive  with  no  end  of  cars  in  train. 

Few  journalists,  beginning  at  the  bottom,  do  not  weary 
of  the  ladder  ere  they  climb  high.  Few  of  such,  or  of  others 
more  enthusiastic,  recall  the  early  associations  of  "the 
office "  with  pleasure.  Yet  there  is  no  world  more  gro- 
tesque, none,  at  least  in  America,  mo/e  capable  of  fictitious 
illustration.  Around  a  newspaper  all  the  dramatis  personse 
of  the  world  congregate  ;  within  it  there  are  staid  idiosyn- 
cratic folk  who  admit  of  all  kindly  caricature. 

I  summon  from  that  humming  and  hurly-burly  past,  the 

ancient  proof-reader.     He  wears  a  green  shade  over  his  eyes 

and  the  gas  burner  is  drawn  very  low  to  darken  the  bald 

and   wrinkled   contour  of  his   forehead.     He   is   severe  iu 

2 


14  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A    NON-COM  DAT  ANT. 

judgment  and  spells  rigidly  by  the  Johnsonian  standard. 
He  punctuates  by  an  obdurate  and  conscientious  method, 
and  will  have  no  italics  upon  any  pretext.  He  will  lend 
y.ni  money,  will  eat  with  you,  drink  with  you,  and  encour- 
a"-e  you  ;  but  he  will  not  punctuate  with  you,  spell  with 
you,  nor  accept  any  of  your  suggestions  as  to  typography 
.  .;•  paragraphing  whatsoever.  He  wears  slippers  and  smokes 
a  primitive  clay  pipe ;  he  has  everything  in  its  place,  and 
v.ni  cannot  offend  him  more  than  by  looking  over  any  proof 
except  when  he  is  holding  it.  A  chip  of  himself  is  the  copy- 
holder at  his  side,  —  a  meagre,  freckled,  matter  of  fact 
youth,  who  reads  your  tenclerest  sentences  in  a  rapid  mono- 
tone, and  is  never  known  to  venture  any  opinion  or  sugges- 
tion whatever.  This  boy,  I  am  bound  to  say,  will  follow 
the  copy  if  it  be  all  consonants,  and  will  accompany  it  if  it 
flies  out  of  the  window. 

The  office  clerk  was  my  bane  and  admiration.  He  was 
pivsumed  by  the  verdant  patrons  of  the  paper  to  be  its 
owner  and  principal  editor,  its  type-setter,  pressman,  and 
carrier.  His  hair  was  elaborately  curled,  and  his  ears  were 
perfect  racks  of  long  and  dandyfied  pens  ;  a  broad,  shovel- 
shaped  gold  pen  lay  forever  opposite  his  high  stool ;  he  had 
an  arrogant  and  patronizing  address,  and  was  the  perpetual 
cabbager  of  editorial  perquisites.  Books,  ball-tickets,  sea- 
son-tickets, pictures,  disappeared  in  his  indiscriminate  fist, 
and  he  promised  notices  which  he  could  not  write  to  no  end 
of  applicants.  He  was  to  be  seen  at  the  theatre  every  night, 
si!nl  he  was  the  dashing  escort  of  the  proprietor's  wife,  who 
preferred  his  jaunty  coat  and  highly-polished  boots  to  the 
less  elaborate  wardrobe  of  us  writers.  That  this  noble  and 
I't-hionable  creature  could  descend  to  writing  wrappers,  and 
to  waiting  his  turn  with  a  bank-book  in  the  long  train  of  a 
sordid  teller,  passed  all  speculation  and  astonishment.  He 
made  a  sorry  fag  of  the  office  boy,  and  advised  us  every  day 
to  beware  of  cutting  the  files,  as  if  that  were  the  one  vice 
of  authors.  To  him  we  stole,  with  humiliated  faces,  and 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  15 

begged  a  trifling  advance  of  salary.  He  sternly  requested 
us  not  to  encroach  behind  the  counter — his  own  indisput- 
able domain  —  but  sometimes  asked  us  to  watch  the  office 
while  he  drank  with  a  theatrical  agent  at  the  nearest  bar. 
He  was  an  inveterate  gossip,  and  endowed  with  a  damnable 
love  of  slipshod  argument ;  the  only  oral  censor  upon  our 
compositions,  he  hailed  us  with  all  the  complaints  made  at 
his  solicitation  by  irascible  subscribers,  and  stood  in  awe  of 
the  cashier  only,  who  frequently,  to  our  delight  and  surprise, 
combed  him  over,  and  drove  him  to  us  for  sympathy. 

The  foreman  was  still  our  power  behind  the  throne ;  he 
left  out  our  copy  on  mechanical  grounds,  arid  put  it  in  for 
our  modesty  and  sophistry.  In  his  broad,  hot  room,  all 
flaring  with  gas,  he  stood  at  a  flat  stone  like  a  surgeon,  and 
took  forms  to  pieces  and  dissected  huge  columns  of  preg- 
nant metal,  and  paid  off  the  hands  with  fabulous  amounts  of 
uncurrent  bank  bills.  His  wife  and  he  went  thrice  a  year 
on  excursions  to  the  sea-side,  and  he  was  forever  borrowing 
a  dollar  from  somebody  to  treat  the  lender  and  himself. 

^hjg~-sJiip-news  man  could  be  seen  towards  the  small-hours, 
writing  his  highly  imaginative  department,  which  showed 
how  the  Sally  Ann,  Master  Todd,  arrived  leaky  in  Bombay 
harbor ;  and  there  were  stacks  of  newsboys  asleep  on  the 
boilers,  fighting  in  their  dreams  for  the  possession  of  a  frag- 
ment of  a  many-cornered  blanket. 

These,  like  myself,  went  into  the  halcyon  land  of  Nod  to 
the  music  of  a  crashing  press,  and  swarmed  about  it  at  the 
dawn  like  so  many  gad  flies  about  an  ox,  to  carry  into  the 
awakening  city  the  rhetoric  and  the  rubbish  I  had  written. 

And  still  they  go,  and  still  the  great  press  toils  along,  and 
still  am  I  its  slave  and  keeper,  who  sit  here  by  the  proud, 
free  sea,  and  feel  like  Sinbad,  that  to  a  terrible  old  man  I 
have  sold  my  youth,  my  convictions,  my  love,  my  life ! 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE   WAI!    CORRESPONDENT'S    FIRST   DAY. 

LOOKING  back  over  the  four  years  of  the  war,  and  noting 
how  indurated  I  have  at  last  become,  both  in  body  and  in 
emotion,  I  recall  with  a  sigh  that  first  morning  of  my  cor- 
respondeutship  when  I  set  out  so  light-hearted  and  yet  so 
anxious.  It  was  in  1861.  1  was  accompanied  to  the  War 
department  by  an  attache  of  the  United  States  Senate.  The 
new  Secretary,  Mr.  Edwin  M.  Stanton,  referred  me  to  a  Mr, 
Sunlbrd,  "  Military  Supervisor  of  Army  Intelligence/7  and 
after  a  brief  delay  I  was  requested  to  sign  a  parole  and  du- 
plicate, specifying  my  loyalty  to  the  Federal  Government, 
and  my  promise  to  publish  nothing  detrimental  to  its  inter- 
ests. I  was  then  given  a  circular,  which  stated  explicitly 
the  kind  of  news  termed  contraband,  and  also  a  printed  pass, 
filled  in  with  my  name,  age,  residence,  and  newspaper  con- 
nection. The  latter  enjoined  upon  all  guards  to  pass  me  in 
and  out  of  camps;  and  authorized  persons  in  Government 
employ  to  furnish  me  with  information. 

Our  Washington  Superintendent  sent  me  a  beast,  and  in 
compliment  to  what  the  animal  might  have  been,  'called  the 
same  a  horse.  I  wish  to  protest,  in  this  record,  against  any 
such  misnomer.  The  creature  possessed  no  single  equine 
element.  Experience  has  satisfied  me  that  horses  stand  on 
four  legs  ;  the  horse  in  question  stood  upon  three.  Ilorses 
may  either  pace,  trot,  run,  rack,  or  gallop  ;  but  mine  made 
all  the  five  movements  at  once.  I  think  I  may  call  his  gait 

(1C) 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  17 

an  eccentric  stumble.  That  he  had  endurance  I  admit ;  for 
he  survived  perpetual  beating  ;  and  his  beauty  might  have 
been  apparent  to  an  anatomist,  but  would  be  scouted  by  the 
world  at  large.  I  asked,  ruefully,  if  I  was  expected  to  go 
into  battle  so  mounted  ;  but  was  peremptorily  forbidden,  as 
a  valuable  property  might  be  endangered  thereby.  I  was 
assigned  to  the  Pennsylvania  Reserve  Corps  in  the  antici- 
pated advance,  and  my  friend,  the  attache,  accompanied  me 
to  its  rendezvous  at  Hunter's  Mills.  We  started  at  two 
o'clock,  and  occupied  an  hour  in  passing  the  city  limits.  I 
calculated  that,  advancing  at  the  same  ratio,  we  should  ar- 
rive in  camp  at  noon  next  day.  We  presented  ludicrous 
figures  to  the  grim  sabremen  that  sat  erect  at  street  corners, 
and  ladies  at  the  windows  of  the  dwellings  smothered  with 
suppressed  laughter  as  we  floundered  along.  My  friend 
had  the  better  horse  ;  but  I  was  the  better  rider  ;  and  if  at 
any  time  I  grew  wrathful  at  my  sorry  plight,  I  had  but  to 
look  at  his  and  be  happy  again.  He  appeared  to  be  riding 
on  the  neck  of  his  beast,  and  when  he  attempted  to  deceive 
me  with  a  smile,  his  face  became  horribly  contorted.  Di- 
rectly his  breeches  worked  above  his  boots,  and  his  bare 
calves  were  objects  of  hopeless  solicitude.  Caricatures, 
rather  than  men,  we  toiled  bruisedly  through  Georgetown, 
and  falling  in  the  wake  of  supply  teams  on  the  Leesburg 
turnpike,  rode  between  the  Potomac  on  one  side  and  the 
dry  bed  of  the  canal  on  the  other,  till  we  came  at  last  to 
Chain  Bridge. 

There  was  a  grand  view  from  the  point  of  Little  Falls 
above,  where  a  line  of  foamy  cataracts  ridged  the  river,  and 
the  rocks  towered  gloomily  on  either  hand  :  and  of  the  city 
below,  with  its  buildings  of  pure  marble,  and  the  yellow 
earthworks  that  crested  Arlington  Heights.  The  clouds 
over  the  Potomac  were  gorgeous  in  hue,  but  forests  of  mel- 
ancholy pine  clothed  the  sides  of  the  hills,  and  the  roar  of 
the  river  made  such  beautiful  monotone  that  I  almost  thought 
it  could  be  translated  to  words,  Our  passes  were  now  de- 


18  CAMPAIGNS   OF  A   NON-COMBATANT. 

manded  by  a  fat,  bareheaded  officer,  and  while  he  panted 
through  their  contents,  two  privates  crossed  their  bayonets 

before  us. 

"  News  ?  "  he  said,  in  the  shortest  remark  of  \vhich  ho 
was  capable.  When  assured  that  we  had  nothing  to  reveal, 
he  seemed  immeasurably  relieved,  and  added  —  "Great 
labor,  reading ! "  At  this  his  face  grew  so  dreadfully 
purple  that  I  begged  him  to  sit  down,  and  tax  himself  with 
no  further  exertion.  He  wiped  his  forehead,  in  reply,  gasp- 
ing like  a  triton,  and  muttering  the  expressive  direction, 
"  right !  "  disappeared  into  a  guard-box.  The  two  privates 
winked  as  they  removed  their  muskets,  and  we  both  laughed 
immoderately  when  out  of  hearing.  Our  backs  were  now 
turned  to  the  Maryland  shore,  and  jutting  grimly  from  the 
hill  before  us,  the  black  guns  of  Fort  Ethan  Allen  pointed 
down  the  bridge.  A  double  line  of  sharp  abattis  protected 
it  from  assault,  and  sentries  walked  lazily  up  and  down  the 
parapet.  The  colors  hung  against  the  mast  in  the  dead 
calm,  and  the  smoke  curled  straight  upward  from  some  log- 
huts  within  the  fort.  The  wildness  of  the  surrounding  land- 
scape was  most  remarkable.  Within  sight  of  the  Capital  of 
the  Republic,  the  fox  yet  kept  the  covert,  and  the  farms 
were  few  and  far  apart.  It  seemed  to  me  that  little  had 
been  done  to  clear  the  country  of  its  primeval  timber,  and 
the  war  had  accomplished  more  to  give  evidence  of  man  and 
industry,  than  two  centuries  of  occupation.  A  military 
road  had  been  cut  through  the  solid  rocks  here ;  and  the 
original  turnpike,  which  had  been  little  more  than  a  cart 
track,  was  now  graded  and  macadamized.  I  passed  mul- 
titudes of  teams,  struggling  up  the  slopes,  and  the  carcasses 
of  mules  littered  every  rod  of  the  way.  The  profanity  of 
the  teamsters  was  painfully  apparent.  I  came  unobserved 
upon  one  who  was  berating  his  beasts  with  a  refinement  of 
cruelty.  He  cursed  each  of  them  separately,  swinging  his 
long-lashed  whfp  the  while,  and  then  damned  the  six  in 
mass.  He  would  have  made  a  dutiful  overseer.  The  sol- 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  19 

diers  had  shown  quite  as  little  consideration  for  the  resi- 
dences along  the  way.  I  came  to  one  dwelling  where  some 
pertinacious  Vandal  had  even  pried  out  the  window-frames, 
and  imperilled  his  neck  to  tear  out  the  roof-beams  ;  a  dead 
vulture  was  pinned  over  the  door  by  pieces  of  broken  bayo- 
nets. 

"Langlcy's," —  a  few  plank-houses,  clustering  around  a 
tavern  and  a  church,  —  is  one  of  those  settlements  whose 
sounding  names  beguile  the  reader  into  an  idea  of  their 
importance.  A  lonesome  haunt  in  time  of  peace,  it  had 
lately  been  the  winter  quarters  of  fifteen  thousand  soldiers, 
and  a  multitude  of  log  huts  had  grown  up  around  it.  I  tied 
my  horse  to  the  window-shutter  of  a  dwelling,  and  picked 
my  way  over  a  slimy  sidewalk  to  the  ricketty  tavern-porch. 
Four  or  five  privates  lay  here  fast  asleep,  and  the  bar-room 
was  occupied  by  a  bevy  of  young  officers,  who  were  empty- 
ing the  contents  of  sundry  pocket-flasks.  Behind  the  bar 
sat  a  person  with  strongly-marked  Hebrew  features,  and  a 
watchmaker  was  plying  his  avocation  in  a  corner.  Two 
great  dogs  crouched  under  a  bench,  and  some  highly-colored 
portraits  were  nailed  to  the  wall.  The  floor  was  bare,  and 
some  clothing  and  miscellaneous  articles  hung  from  beams 
in  the  ceiling. 

"  Is  this  your  house?  "  I  said  to  the  Hebrew. 

"  I  keepsh  it  now." 

"  By  right  or  by  conquest  ?  " 

"By  ze  right  of  conquest,"  he  said,  laughing;  and  at 
once  proposed  to  sell  me  a  bootjack  and  an  India-rubber 
overcoat.  I  compromised  upon  a  haversack,  which  he  filled 
with  sandwiches  and  sardines,  and  which  I  am  bound  to  say 
fell  apart  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon.  The  watchmaker 
was  an  enterprising  young  fellow,  who  had  resigned  his 
place  in  a  large  Broadway  establishment,  to  speculate  in 
cheap  jewelry  and  do  itinerant  repairing.  He  says  that  he 
followed  the  "  Army  Paymasters,  and  sold  numbers  of 
watches,  at  good  premiums,  when  the  troops  had  money." 


20  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    NON-COMBATANT. 

Soldiers,  he  informed  me,  were  reckless  spendthrifts ;  and 
the  prey  of  sutlers  and  sharpers.  When  there  was  nothing 
at  hand  to  purchase,  they  gambled  away  their  wages,  and 
most  of  them  left  the  service  penniless  and  in  debt.  He 
thought  it  perfectly  legitimate  to  secure  some  silver  while 
"  going,"  but  complained  that  the  value  of  his  stock  ren- 
dered him  liable  to  theft  and  murder.  "  There  are  men  in 
every  regiment,"  said  he,  "  who  would  blow  out  my  brains 
in  any  lonely  place  to  plunder  me  of  these  watches." 

At  this  point,  a  young  officer,  in  a  fit  of  bacchanal  laugh- 
ter, staggered  rather  roughly  against  me. 

"  Begurpardon,"  he  said,  with  an  unsteady  bow,  "  never 
ran  against  person  in  life  before." 

I  smiled  assuringly,  but  he  appeared  to  think  the  offence 
unpardonable. 

"Do  asshu  a,  on  honor  of  gentlemand  officer,  not  in 
custom  of  behaving  offensively.  Azo  !  leave  it  to  my  friends. 
Entirely  due  to  injuries  received  at  battle  Drainesville." 

As  the  other  gentlemen  laughed  loudly  here,  I  took  it  for 
granted  that  my  apologist  had  some  personal  hallucination 
relative  to  that  engagement. 

"  What  giggling  for,  Bob  ?  "  he  said  ;  "  honor  concerned 
in  this  matter,  Will !  Do  asshu  a,  fell  under  Colonel's  horse, 
and  Company  A  walked  over  small  of  my  back."  The 
other  officers  were  only  less  inebriated  and  most  of  them 
spoke  boastfully  of  their  personal  prowess  at  Drainesville. 
This  was  the  only  engagement  in  which  the  Pennsylvania 
Reserves  had  yet  participated,  and  few  officers  that  I  met 
did  not  ascribe  the  victory  entirely  to  their  own  individual 
gallantry.  I  inquired  of  these  gentlemen  the  route  to  the 
new  encampments  of  the  Reserves.  They  lay  five  miles 
south  of  the  turnpike,  close  to  the  London  and  Hampshire 
railroad,  and  along  both  sides  of  an  unfrequented  lane. 
They  formed  in  this  position  the  right  wing  of  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac,  and  had  been  ordered  to  hold  themselves  in 
hourly  readiness  for  an  advance.  By  this  time,  my  friend 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A    NON-COMBATANT.  21 

S.  came  up,  and  leaving  him  to  restore  his  mortified  body,  I 
crossed  the  road  to  the  churchyard  and  peered  through  the 
open  door  into  the  edifice.  The  seats  of  painted  pine  had 
been  covered  with  planks,  and  a  sick  man  lay  above  every 
pew.  At  the  ringing  of  my  spurs  in  the  threshold,  some  of 
the  sufferers  looked  up  through  the  red  eyes  of  fever,  and 
the  faces  of  others  were  spectrally  white.  A  few  groaned 
as  they  turned  with  difficulty,  and  some  shrank  in  pain  from 
the  glare  of  the  light.  Medicines  were  kept  in  the  altar- 
place,  and  a  doctor's  clerk  was  writing  requisitions  in  the 
pulpit.  The  sickening  smell  of  the  hospital  forbade  me  to 
enter,  and  walking  across  the  trampled  yard,  I  crept  through 
a  rent  in  the  paling,  and  examined  the  huts  in  which  the 
Eescrves  had  passed  the  winter.  They  were  built  of  logs, 
plastered  with  mud,  and  the  roofs  of  some  were  thatched 
with  straw.  Each  cabin  was  pierced  for  two  or  more 
windows ;  the  beds  were  simply  shelves  or  berths ;  a 
rough  fireplace  of  stones  and  clay  communicated  with  the 
wooden  chimney  ;  and  the  floors  were  in  most  cases  damp 
and  bare.  Streets,  fancifully  designated,  divided  the  set- 
tlement irregularly ;  but  the  tenements  were  now  all 
deserted  save  one,  where  I  found  a  whole  family  of  "  contra- 
bands "  or  fugitive  slaves.  These  wretched  beings,  seven 
in  number,  had  escaped  from  a  plantation  in  Albemarlo 
county,  and  travelling  stealthily  by  night,  over  two  hundred 
miles  of  precipitous  country,  reached  the  Federal  lines  on 
the  thirteenth  day.  The  husband  said  that  his  name  was 
"  Jeems,"  and  that  his  wife  was  called  "  Kitty  ; ;;  that  his 
youngest  boy  had  passed  the  mature  age  of  eight  months, 
and  that  the  "  big  girl,  Rosy,"  was  "  twelve  3rears  Christ- 
mas comin'."  While  the  troops  remained  at  Langley's,  the 
man  was  employed  at  seventy-five  cents  a  week  to  attend  to 
an  officer's  horse.  Kitty  and  Rose  cooked  and  washed  for 
soldiers,  and  the  boys  ran  errands  to  Washington  and  return, 
—  twenty-five  miles !  The  eldest  boy,  Jefferson,  had  been 
given  the  use  of  a  crippled  team-horse,  and  traded  in  news- 


22  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A    NON-COMB  AT  AXT. 

papers,  but  having  confused  ideas  of  the  relative  value  of 
coins,  his  profits  were  only  moderate.  The  nag  died  before 
the  troops  removed,  and  a  sutler,  under  pretence  of  securing 
their  passage  to  the  North,  disappeared  with  the  little  they 
had  saved.  They  were  quite  destitute  now,  but  looked  to 
the  future  with  no  foreboding,  and  huddled  together  in  the 
straw,  made  a  picture  of  domestic  felicity  that  impressed  me 
greatly  with  the  docility,  contentment,  and  unfailing  good 
humor  of  their  dusky  tribe.  The  eyes  of  the  children  were 
large  and  lustrous,  and  they  revealed  the  clear  pearls  be- 
neath their  lips  as  they  clung  bashfully  to  their  mother's 
lap.  The  old  lady  was  smoking  a  clay  pipe  ;  the  man  run- 
ning over  some  castaway  jackets  and  boots.  I  remarked  pai-- 
ticularly  the  broad  shoulders  and  athletic  arms  of  the  woman, 
whose  many  childbirths  had  left  no  traces  upon  her  comeliness. 
She  asked  me,  wistfully  :  "  Masser,  how  fur  to  de  nawf  ?" 

"  A  long  way/'  said  I,  "  perhaps  two  hundred  miles." 

"Lawd!"  she  said,  buoyantly  —  "is  dat  all?  Why, 
Jeems,  couldn't  we  foot  it,  honey  ?  " 

"You  a  most  guv  out  before,  ole  'oman,"  he  replied; 
"got  a  good  ruff  over  de  head  now.  Guess  de  white  massar 
won't  let  um  starve." 

I  tossed  some  coppers  to  the  children  and  gave  each  a 
sandwich. 

"  You  get  up  dar,  John  Thomas  !  "  called  the  man  vigor- 
ously ;  "you  tank  de  gentleman,  Jefferson,  boy  !  I  wonda 
wha  your  manners  is.  Tank  you,  massar !  know'd  you  was 
a  gentleman,  sar!  Massar,  is  your  family  from  ole  Vir- 
ginny?" 

It  was  five  o'clock  when  I  rejoined  S.,  and  the  greater 
part  of  our  journey  had  yet  to  be  made.  I  went  at  his 
creeping  pace  until  courtesy  yielded  to  impatience,  when 
spurring  my  Pegasus  vigorously,  he  fell  into  a  bouncing 
amble  and  left  the  attache  far  behind.  My  pass  was  again 
demanded  above  Langley's  by  a  man  who  ate  apples  as  he 
examined  it,  and  who  was  disposed  to  hold  a  long  parley. 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A    NON-COMBATANT.  23 

I  entered  a  region  of  scrub  timber  further  on,  and  met  with  > 
nothing  human  for  four  miles,  at  the  end  of  which  distance  I 
reached  Difficult  Creek,  flowing  through  a  rocky  ravine,  and 
crossed  by  a  military  bridge  of  logs.  Through  the  thick 
woods  to  the  right,  I  heard  the  roar  of  the  Potomac,  and  a 
finger-board  indicated  that  I  was  opposite  Great  Falls. 
Three  or  four  dead  horses  lay  at  the  roadside  beyond  the 
stream,  and  I  recalled  the  place  as  the  scene  of  a  recent 
cavalry  encounter.  A  cartridge-box  and  a  torn  felt  hat  lay 
close  to  the  carcasses  :  I  knew  that  some  soul  had  gone 
hence  to  its  account. 

The  road  now  kept  to  the  left  obliquely,  and  much  of  my 
ride  was  made  musical  by  the  stream.  Darkness  closed 
solemnly  about  me,  with  seven  miles  of  the  journey  yet  to 
accomplish,  and  as,  at  eight  o'clock,  I  turned  from  the  turn- 
pike into  a  lonesome  by-road,  full  of  ruts,  pools,  and  quick- 
sands, a  feeling  of  delicious  uneasiness  for  the  first  time 
possessed  me.  Some  owls  hooted  in  the  depth  of  the  woods, 
and  wild  pigs,  darting  across  the  road,  went  crashing  into 
the  bushes.  The  phosphorescent  bark  of  a  blasted  tree 
glimmered  on  a  neighboring  knoll,  and  as  I  halted  at  a 
rivulet  to  water  my  beast,  I  saw  a  solitary  star  floating 
down  the  ripples.  Directly  I  came  upon  a  clearing  where 
the  moonlight  shone  through  the  rents  of  a  crumbling  dwell- 
ing, and  from  the  far  distance  broke  the  faint  howl  of  farm 
dogs.  A  sense  of  insecurity  that  I  would  not  for  worlds 
have  resigned,  now  tingled,  now  chilled  my  blood.  At  last, 
climbing  a  stony  hill,  the  skies  lay  beneath  me  reddening 
with  the  flame  of  camps  and  flaring  and  falling  alternately, 
like  the  beautiful  Northern  lights.  I  heard  the  ring  of  hoofs 
as  I  looked  entranced,  and  in  a  twinkling,  a  body  of  horse- 
men dashed  past  me  and  disappeared.  A  little  beyond,  the 
road  grew  so  thick  that  I  could  see  nothing  of  my  way  ;  but 
trusting  doubtfully  to  my  horse,  a  deep  challenge  came 
directly  from  the  thicket,  and  I  saw  the  flash  of  a  sabre,  as  I 
stammered  a  reply.  Led  to  a  cabin  close  at  hand,  my  pass 


24  CAMPAIGNS    OP    A    XOX-COilBATANT. 

was  examined  by  candle-light,  and  I  learned  that  the  nearest 
camp  of  the  Reserves  was  only  a  mile  farther  on,  and  the 
regiment 'of  which  I  was  in  quest  about  two  miles  distant. 
After  another  half  hour,  I  reached  Ord's  brigade,  whose 
tents  were  pitched  in  a  fine  grove  of  oaks  ;-  the  men  talking, 
singing,  and  shouting,  around  open  air  fires  ;  and  a  battery  of 
brass  Napoleons  unlimbered  in  front,  pointing  significantly 
to  the  West  and  South.  For  a  mile  and  a  half  I  rode  by  the 
light  of  continuous  camps,  reaching  at  last  the  quarters  of 

the th,  commanded  by  a  former  newspaper  associate  of 

mine,  with  whom   I  had  gone  itemizing,  scores  of  times. 
His  regiment  had  arrived  only  the  same  afternoon,  and  their 
tents  were  not  yet  pitched.     Their  muskets  were  stacked 
along  the  roadside,  and  the  men  lay  here  and  there  wrapped 
in  their  blankets,  and   dozing    around   the   fagots.      The 
Colonel  was  asleep  in  a  wagon,  but  roused  up  at  the  sum- 
mons of  his  Adjutant,  and  greeting  me  warmly,  directed  the 
cook  to  prepare  a  supper  of  coffee  and  fried  pork.     Too 
hungry  to  feel  the  chafing  of  my  sores  and  bruises,  I  fell  to 
the  oleaginous  repast  with  my  teeth  and  fingers,  and  eating 
ravenously,  asked  at  last  to  be  shown  to  my  apartments. 
These  consisted  of  a  covered  wagon,  already  occupied  by 
four  teamsters,  and  a  blanket  which  had  evidently  been  in 
close   proximity  to   the  hide   of  a  horse.     A  man  named 
"Goggle,"  being  nudged  by  the  Colonel,  and  requested  to 
take  other  quarters,  asked  dolorously  if  it  was  time  to  turn 
out,  and  roared  "  woa,"  as  if  he  had  some  consciousness  of 
being  kicked.     When  I   asked  for  a  pillow,  the  Colonel 
laughed,  and  I  had  an  intuition  that  the  man  "  Goggle  "  was 
looking  at  me  in  the  darkness  with  intense  disgust.     The 
Colonel  said  that  he  had  once  put  a  man  on  double  duty  for 
placing  his  head  on  a  snowball,  and  warned  me  satirically 
that   such  luxuries   were   preposterous   in   the   field.     He 
recommended  me  not  to  catch  cold  if  I  could  help  it,  but 
said  that  people  in  camp  commonly  caught  several  colds  at 
once,  and  added  grimly  that  if  I  wished  to  be  shaved  in  tho 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NOX-COMBATANT.  25 

morning,  there  was  a  man  close  by,  who  had  ground  a  sabre 
down  to  the  nice  edge  of  a  razor,  and  who  could  be  made  to 
accommodate  me.  There  were  cracks  in  the  bottom  of  the 
wagon,  through  which  the  cold  came  like  knives,  and  I  was 
allotted  a  space  four  feet  in  length,  by  three  feet  in 
width. 

Being  six  feet  in  height,  my  relation  to  these  Procrustean 
quarters  was  most  embarassing ;  but  I  doubled  up,  chatter- 
ingly,  and  lay  my  head  on  my  arm.  In  a  short  time  I  expe- 
rienced a  sensation  akin  to  that  of  being  guillotined,  and 
sitting  bolt  upright,  found  the  teamsters  in  the  soundest  of 
Lethean  conditions.  As  the  man  next  to  me  snored  very 
loudly,  I  adopted  the  brilliant  idea  of  making  a  -pillow  of 
his  thigh  ;  which  answered  my  best  expectations.  I  was 
aroused  ai'ter  a  while,  by  what  I  thought  to  be  the  violent 
hands  of  this  person,  but  which,  to  my  great  chagrin, 
proved  to  be  S.,  intent  upon  dividing  my  place  with  me. 
Resistance  was  useless.  I  submitted  to  martyrdom  with 
due  resignation,  but  half  resolved  to  go  home  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  shun,  for  the  future,  the  horrible  romance  of  camps. 
3 


CHAPTER  m. 

A   GENERAL   UNDER   THE    MICROSCOPE. 

WHEN  I  awoke  at  Colonel  Taggert's  tent  the  morning  af- 
terward, I  had  verified  the  common  experience  of  camps  by 
"  catching  several  colds  at  once,"  and  felt  a  general  sensa- 
tion of  being  cut  oif  at  the  knees.  Poor  S.,  who  joined  me 
at  the  fire,  states  that  he  believed  himself  to  be  tied  in 
knots,  and  that  he  shonld  return  afoot  to  Washington.  Our 
horses  looked  no  worso,  for  that  would  have  been  manifestly 
impossible.  We  were  made  the  butts  of  much  jesting  at 
breakfast ;  and  S.  said,  in  a  spirit  of  atrocity,  that  camp  wit 
was  quite  as  bad  as  camp  "  wittles."  I  bade  him  adieu  at  - 
five  o'clock  A.  M.,  when  he  had  secured  passage  to  the  city 
in  a  sutler's  wagon.  Remounting  my  own  fiery  courser,  I 
bade  the  Colonel  a  temporary  fai'ewell,  and  proceeded  in  the 
direction  of  Meade's  and  Reynold's  brigades.  The  drum 
and  fife  were  now  beating  reveille,  and  volunteers  in  various 
stages  of  undress  were  limping  to  roll-call.  Some  wore  one 
shoe,  and  others  appeared  shivering  in  their  linen.  They 
etood  ludicrously  in  rank,  and  a  succession  of  short,  dry 
coughs  ran  up  and  down  the  line,  as  if  to  indicate  those 
who  should  escape  the  bullet  for  the  lingering  agonies  of 
the'  hospital.  The  ground  was  damp,  and  fog  was  rising 
from  the  hollows  and  fens.  Some  signal  corps  officers  were 
practising  with  flags  in  a  ploughed  field,  and  negro  stewards 
were  stirring  about  the  cook  fires.  A  few  supply  wagons^ 
that  I  passed  the  previous  day  were  just  creaking  into  camp, 

(2G) 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  27 

having  travelled  most  of  the  night.  I  saw  that  the  country 
was  rude,  but  the  farms  were  close,  and  the  dwellings  in 
many  cases  inhabited.  The  vicinity  had  previously  been 
unoccupied  by  either  army,  and  rapine  had  as  yet  appropri- 
ated only  the  fields  for  camps  and  the  fences  for  fuel.  I  was 
directed  to  the  headquarters  of  Major-General  M'Call, —  a 
cluster  of  wall  tents  in  the  far  corner  of  a  grain-field,  con- 
cealed from  public  view  by  a  projecting  point  of  woods.  A 
Sibley  tent  stood  close  at  hand,  where  a  soldier  in  blue  over- 
coat was  reading  signals  through  a  telescope.  I  mistook 
the  tent  for  the  General's,  and  riding  up  to  the  soldier  was 
reqiiested  to  stand  out  of  the  way.  I  moved  to  his  rear, 
but  he  said  curtly  that  I  was  obstructing  the  light.  I  then 
dismounted,  and  led  my  horse  to  a  clump  of  trees  a  rod  dis- 
tant. 

"  Don't  hitch  there,"  said  the  soldier  ;  "  you  block  up  the 
view." 

A  little  ruffled  at  this  manifest  discourtesy,  I  asked  the 
man  to  denote  some  point  within  a  radius  of  a  mile  where 
I  would  not  interfere  with  his  operations.  He  said  in  reply, 
that  it  was  not  his  business  to  denote  hitching-stalls  for 
anybody.  I  thought,  in  that  case,  that  I  should  stay  where 
I  was,  and  he  politely  informed  me  that  I  might  stay  and  be 
— jammed.  I  found  afterward  that  this  individual  was 
troubled  with  a  kind  of  insanity  peculiar  to  all  headquar- 
ters, arising  out  of  an  exaggerated  idea  of  his  own  impor- 
tance. I  had  the  pleasure,  a  few  minutes  afterward,  of  hear- 
ing him  ordered  to  feed  my  horse.  A  thickset,  gray-haired 
man  sat  near  by,  undergoing  the  process  of  shaving  by  a 
very  nervous  negro.  The  thickset  man  was  also  exercising 
the  privileges  of  his  rank ;  but  the  more  he  berated  his  at- 
tendant's awkwardness,  the  more  nervous  the  other  became. 
I  addressed  myself  mutually  to  master  and  man,  in  an  in- 
quiry as  to  the  precise  quarters  of  the  General  in  command. 
The  latter  pointed  to  a  wall  tent  contiguous,  and  was  cursed 
by  the  thickset  man  for  not  minding  his  business.  The 


28  CAMPAIGNS   OF  A  NON-COMBATANT. 

thickset  man  remarked  substantially,  that  he  didn't  know 
anything  about  it,  and  was  at  that  moment  cut  by  the  negro, 
to  my  infinite  delight.  Before  the  wall  tent  in  question 
stood  a  tall,  broad-shouldered  gentleman  in  shirt-sleeves  and 
slippers,  warming  his  back  and  hands  at  a  fire.  He  was 
watching,  through  an  aperture  in  the  tent,  the  movements 
of  a  private  who  was  cleaning  his  boots.  I  noticed  that  he 
wore  a  seal  ring,  and  that  he  opened  and  shut  his  eyes  very 
rapidly.  He  was,  otherwise,  a  very  respectable  and  digni- 
fied gentleman. 

"  Is  this  General  M'Call  ?  "  said  I,  a  little  discomposed. 
The  gentleman  looked  abstractedly  into  my  eyes,  opening 
and  shutting  his  own  several  times,  as  if  doubtful  of  his 
personality,  and  at  last  decided  that  he  was  General  M'Call. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  said  gravely,  but  without  the  slightest 
curiosity. 

"  I  have  a  letter  for  you,  sir,  I  believe." 

He  put  the  letter  behind  his  back,  and  went  on  warming 
his  hands.  Having  winked  several  times  again,  apparently 
forgetting  all  about  the  matter,  I  ventured  to  add  that  the 
letter  was  merely  introductory.  He  looked  at  it,  mechan- 
ically. 

"  Who  opened  it  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Letters  of  introduction  are  not  commonly  sealed,  Gen- 
eral." 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  asked,  indifferently. 

I  told  him  that  the  contents  of  the  letter  would  explain 
my  errand  ;  but  he  had,  meantime,  relapsed  into  abstract- 
edness, and  winked,  and  warmed  his  hands,  for  at  least,  five 
minutes.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  he  read  the  letter  very 
deliberately,  and  said  that  he  was  glad  to  see' me  in  camp. 
He  intimated,  that  if  I  was  not  already  located,  I  could  be 
provided  with  bed  and  meals  at  headquarters.  He  stated, 
in  relation  to  my  correspondence,  that  all  letters  sent  from  the 
Reserve  Corps,  must,  without  any  reservations,  be  submit- 
ted to  him  in  person.  I  was  obliged  to  promise  compliance, 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NOX-COMBATANT.  29 

but  had  gloomy  forebodings  that  the  General  would  occupy 
a  fortnight  in  the  examination  of  each  letter.  He  invited 
me  to  breakfast,  proposed  to  make  me  acquainted  with  his 
staff,  and  was,  in  all  respects,  a  very  grave,  prudent,  and 
affable  soldier.  I  may  say,  incidentally,  that  I  adopted 
the  device  of  penning  a  couple  of  gossipy  epistles,  the 
length  and  folly  of  which,  so  irritated  General  M'Call,  that 
he  released  me  from  the  penalty  of  submitting  my  composi- 
tions for  the  future. 

I  took  up  my  permanent  abode  with  quartermaster  King- 
wait,  a  very  prince  of  old  soldiers,  who  had  devoted  much 
of  a  sturdy  life  to  promoting  the  militia  interests  of  the  pop- 
ulous county  of  Chester.  When  the  war-fever  swept  down 
his  beautiful  valley,  and  the  drum  called  the  young  men 
from  villages  and  farms,  this  ancient  yeoman  and  miller  — 
for  he  was  both  —  took  a  musket  at  the  sprightly  age  of 
sixty-five,  and  joined  a  Volunteer  company.  Neither  ridi- 
cule nor  entreaty  could  bend  his  purpose ;  but  the  Secre- 
tary of  War,  hearing  of  th'e  case,  conferred  a  brigade  quar- 
termastership  upon  him.  He  threw  off  the  infirmities  of 
age,  stepped  as  proudly  as  any  youngster,  and  became,  em- 
phatically, the  best  -quartermaster  in  the  Division.  He 
never  delayed  an  advance  with  tardy  teams,  nor  kept  the 
General  tentless,  nor  penned  irregular  requisitions,  nor 
wasted  the  property  of  Government.  The  ague  seized  him, 
occasionally,  and  shook  his  grey  hairs  fearfully  ;  but  he  al- 
ways recovered  to  ride  his  black  stallion  on  long  forages, 
and  his  great  strength  and  bulk  were  the  envy  of  all  the 
young  officers. 

He  grasped  my  hand  so  heartily  that  I  positively  howled, 
and  commanded  a  tall  sergeant,  rejoicing  in  the  name  of 
Clover,  to  take  away  my  horse  and  split  him  up  for  kind- 
ling wood. 

"  We  must  give  him  the  blue  roan,  that  Fogg  rides," 
said  the  quartermaster,  to  the  great  dejection  of  Fogg,  a 
short  stout  youth,  who  was  posting  accounts.  I  was  glad 
3* 


30  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    NON-COMBATANT. 

to  see,  however,  that  Fogg  was  not  disposed  to  be  angry, 
and  when  informed  that  a  certain  iron-gray  nag  was  at  his  dis- 
posal, he  was  in  a  perfect  glow  of  good  humor.  The  other 
attaches  were  a  German,  whose  name,  as  I  caught  it,  seemed 
to  be  Skyhiski ;  and  a  pleasant  lad  called  Owen,  whose  dis- 
position was  so  mild,  that  I  wondered  how  he  had  adopted 
the  bloody  profession  of  arms.  A  black  boy  belonged  to 
the  establishment,  remarkable,  chiefly,  for  getting  close  to 
the  heels  of  the  black  stallion,  and  being  frequently  kicked  ; 
he  was  employed  to  feed  and  brush  the  said  stallion,  and 
the  antipathy  between  them  was  intense. 

The  above  curious  military  combination,  slept  under  a 
great  tarpaulin  canopy,  originally  used  for  covering  com- 
missary stores  from  the  rain.  Our  meals  were  taken  in  the 
open  air,  and  prepared  by  Skyhiski ;  but  there  was  a  second 
tent,  provided  with  desk  and  secretary,  where  Mr.  Fogg 
performed  his  clerk  duties,  daily.  When  I  had  relieved  my 
Pegasus  of  his  saddle,  and  penned  some  paragraphs  for  a 
future  letter,  I  strolled  down  the  road  with  the  old  gentle- 
man, who  insisted  upon  showing  me  Hunter's  mill,  a  storm- 
beaten  structure,  that  looked  like  a  great  barn.  The  mill- 
race  had  been  drained  by  some  soldiers  for  the  purpose  of 
securing  the  fish  contained  in  it,  and  the  mill-wheel  was 
quite  dry  and  motionless.  Difficult  Creek  ran  impetuously 
across  the  road  below,  as  if  anxious  to  be  put  to  some  use 
again  ;  and  the  miller's  house  adjoining,  was  now  used  as  a 
hospital,  for  Lieutenant-Colonel  Kane,  and  some  inferior 
officers.  It  was  a  favorite  design  of  the  Quartermaster's  to 
scrape  the  mill-stone,  repair  the  race,  and  put  the  great 
breast-wheel  to  work.  One  could  see  that  the  soldier  had 
not  entirely  obliterated  the  miller,  and  as  he  related,  with  a 
glowing  face,  the  plans  that  he  had  proposed  to  recuperate 
the  tottering  structure,  and  make  it  serviceable  to  the  army, 
I  felt  a  regret  that  such  peaceful  ambitions  should  have 
ever  been  overruled  by  the  call  to  arms. 

While  we  stood  at  the  mill  window,  watching  the  long 
stretches  of  white  tents  and  speculating  upon  the  results  of 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  31 

war,  we  saw  several  men  running  across  the  road  toward  a 
hill-top  cottage,  where  General  Meade  made  his  quarters. 
A  small  group  was  collected  at  the  cottage,  reconnoitring 
something  through  their  telescopes.  As  I  hastened  in  that 
direction,  I  heard  confused  voices,  thus  :  "  No,  it  isn't!  " 
"It  is!"  "Can  you  make  out  his  shoulder-bar?  ' 
"  What  is  the  color  of  his  coat  ?  "  "  Gray  I  "  "  No,  it's 
butternut!"  "  Has  he  a  musket!"  "Yes,  he  is  level- 
ling it !"  At  this  the  group  scattered  in  every  direction. 
"  Pshaw  !  "  said  one,  "  we  are  out  of  range  ;  besides,  it  is 
a  telescope  that  he  has.  By ,  it  is  a  Rebel,  reconnoi- 
tring our  camp !  "  There  was  a  manifest  sensation  here, 
and  one  man  wondered  how  he  had  passed  the  picket. 
Another  suggested  that  he  might  be  accompanied  by  a 
troop,  and  a  third  convulsed  the  circle  by  declaring  that 
there  were  six  other  Rebels  visible  in  a  woods  to  the  left. 
Mr.  Fogg  had  meantime  come  up  and  proffered  me  a  field- 
glass,  through  which  I  certainly  made  out  a  person  in  gray, 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  road  just  at  the  ridge  of  a 
hill.  When  I  dropped  my  glass  I  saw  him  distinctly  with 
the  naked  eye.  He  was  probably  a  mile  distant,  and  his 
gray  vesture  was  little  relieved  by  the  blue  haze  of  the 
forest. 

"  He  is  going,"  exclaimed  a  private,  excitedly  ;  "  where's 
the  man  that  was  to  try  a  lead  on  him  ?  "  Several  started 
impulsively  for  their  pieces,  and  some  officers  called  for 
their  horses.  "There  go  his  knees!"  "His  body  is  be- 
hind the  hill !  "  "  Now  his  head " 

"Crack!  crack!  crack!"  spluttered  musketry  from  the 
edge  of  the  mill,  and  like  as  many  rockets  darted  a  score  of 
horsemen  through  the  creek  and  up  the  steep.  Directly  a 
faint  hurrah  pealed  from  the  camp  nearest  the  mill.  It 
passed  to  the  next  camp  and  the  next ;  for  all  were  now 
earnestly  watching ;  and  finally  a  medley  of  cheers  shook 
the  air  and  the  ear.  Thousands  of  brave  men  were  shout- 
ing the  requiem  of  one  paltry  life.  The  rash  fool  had 
bought  with  his  temerity  a  bullet  in  the  brain.  When  I 


32  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

saw  him — dusty  and  still  bleeding — he  was  beset  by  a 
full  regiment  of  idlers,  to  whom  death  had  neither  awe  nor 
respect.  They  talked  of  the  delicate  shot,  as  connoisseurs 
in  the  art  of  murder,  —  and  two  men  dug  him  a  grave  on 
the  green  before  the  mill,  wherein  he  was  tossed  like  a  dog 
or  a  vulture,  to  be  lulled,  let  us  hope,  by  the  music  of  the 
grinding,  when  grain  shall  ripen  once  more. 

I  had  an  opportunity,  after  dinner,  to  inspect  the  camp  of 
the  "  Bucktails,"  a  regiment  of  Pennsylvania  backwoods- 
men, whose  efficiency  as  skirmishers  has  been  adverted  to 
by  all  chroniclers  of  the  civil  war.  They  wore  the  common 
blue  blouse  and  breeches,  but  were  distinguished  by  squir- 
rel tails  fastened  to  their  caps.  They  were  reputed  to  be 
the  best  marksmen  in  the  service,  and  were  generally 
allowed,  in  action,  to  take  their  own  positions  and  fire  at 
will.  Crawling  through  thick  woods,  or  trailing  ser- 
pent-like through  the  tangled  grass,  these  mountaineers 
were  for  a  time  the  terror  of  the  Confederates  ;  but  when 
their  mode  of  fighting  had  been  understood,  their  adversa- 
ries improved  upon  it  to  such  a  degree  that  at  the  date  of 
this  writing  there  is  scarcely  a  Corporal's  guard  of  the  origi- 
nal Bucktail  regiment  remaining.  Slaughtered  on  the  field, 
perishing  in  prison,  disabled  or  paroled,  they  have  lost  both 
their  prestige  and  their  strength.  I  remarked  among  these 
worthies  a  partiality  for  fisticuffs,  and  a  dislike  for  the 
manual  of  arms.  They  drilled  badly,  and  were  reported  to 
be  adepts  at  thieving  and  unlicensed  foraging. 

The  second  night  in  camp  was  pleasantly  passed.  Some 
sociable  officers  —  favorites  with  Captain  Kingwalt — con- 
gregated under  the  tarpaulin,  after  supper-hour,  and  when  a 
long-necked  bottle  had  been  emptied  and  replenished,  there 
were  many  quaint  stories  related  and  curious  individualities 
revealed.  I  dropped  asleep  while  the  hilarity  was  at  its 
height,  and  Fogg  covered  me  with  a  thick  blanket  as  I  lay. 
The  enemy  might  have  come  upon  us  in  the  darkness  ;  but 
if  death  were  half  so  sound  as  my  slumber  afield,  I  should 
have  bid  it  welcome. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A   FORAGING    ADVENTURE. 

THERE  was  a  newsboy  named  "  Charley,"  who  slept  at 
Captain  Kingwalt's  every  second  night,  and  who  returned 
iny  beast  to  his  owner  in  Washington.  The  aphorism  that 
a  Yankee  can  do  anything,  was  exemplified  by  this  lad  ;  for 
he  worked  my  snail  into  a  gallop.  He  was  born  in  Chelsea, 
Massachusetts,  and  appeared  to  have  taken  to  speculation 
at  the  age  when  most  children  are  learning  ABC.  He  was 
now  in  his  fourteenth  year,  owned  two  horses,  and  employed 
another  boy  to  sell  papers  for  him  likewise.  His  profits  upon 
daily  sales  of  four  hundred  journals  were  about  thirty-two 
dollars.  He  had  five  hundred  dollars  in  bank,  and  was 
debating  with  Captain  Kingwalt  the  propriety  of  founding 
an  army  express  and  general  agency.  Such  a  self-reliant, 
swaggering,  far-sighted,  and  impertinent  boy  I  never  knew. 
He  was  a  favorite  with  the  Captain's  black-boy,  and  upon 
thorough  terms  of  equality  with  the  Commanding  General. 
His  papers  cost  him  in  Washington  a  cent  and  a  half  each, 
and  he  sold  them  in  camp  for  ten  cents  each.  I  have  not  the 
slightest  doubt  that  I  shall  hear  of  him  again  as  the  propri- 
etor of  an  overland  mail,  or  the  patron  and  capitalist  of 
Greenland  emigration. 

I  passed  the  second  and  third  days  quietly  in  camp,  writ- 
ing a  couple  of  letters,  studying1  somewhat  of  fortification, 
and  making  flying  visits  to  various  officers.  There  was  but 
one  other  Reporter  with  this  division  of  the  army.  He  rep- 

(33) 


34  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NOX-COMBATAXT. 

resented  a  New  York  journal,  and  I  could  not  but  contrast 
his  fine  steed  and  equipments  with  the  scanty  accommoda- 
tions that  my  provincial  establishment  had  provided  for  me. 
His  saddle  was  a  cushioned  McClellan,  with  spangled  breast- 
strap  and  plump  saddle-bags,  and  his  bridle  was  adorned 
with  a  bright  curb  bit  and  twilled  reins.  He  wore  a  field- 
glass  belted  about  his  body,  and  was  plentifully  provided 
with  money  to  purchase  items  of  news,  if  they  were  at  any 
time  difficult  to  obtain.  I  resolved  inwardly  to  seize  the 
first  opportunity  of  changing  establishments,  so  that  I 
might  be  placed  upon  as  good  a  footing.  My  relations  with 
camp,  otherwise,  were  of  the  happiest  character ;  for  the 
troops  were  State-people  of  mine,  and,  as  reporters  had  not 
yet  abused  the  privileges  accorded  them,  my  profession  was 
held  in  some  repute.  I  made  the  round  of  various  "messes," 
and  soon  adopted  the  current  dissipations  of  the  field,  — late 
hours,  long  stories,  incessant  smoking,  and  raw  spirits. 
There  were  some  restless  minds  about  me,  whose  funds  of 
anecdote  and  jest  were  apparently  inexhaustible.  I  do  not 
know  that  so  many  eccentric,  adventurous,  and  fluent  people 
are  to  be  found  among  any  other  nationality  of  soldiers,  not 
excepting  the  Irish. 

The  blue  roan  of  which  friend  Fogg  had  been  deprived, 
exhibited  occasional  evidences  of  a  desire  to  break  my  neck. 
I  was  obliged  to  dispense  with  the  spur  in  riding  him,  but 
he  nevertheless  dashed  off  at  times,  and  put  me  into  an 
agony  of  fear.  On  those  occasions  I  managed  to  retain  my 
seat,  and  gained  thereby  the  reputation  of  being  a  very  fine 
equestrian.  As  there  were  few  civilians  in  camp,  and  as  I 
wore  a  gray  suit,  and  appeared  to  be  in  request  at  head-quar- 
ters, a  rumor  was  developed  and  gained  currency  that  I  was 
attached  to  the  Division  in  the  capacity  of  a  scout.  When 
my  horse  became  unmanageable,  therefore,  his  speed  was 
generally  accelerated  by  the  cheers  of  soldiers,  and  I  became 
an  object  of  curiosity  in  every  quarter,  to  my  infinite  mor- 
tification and  dread. 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    NOX-COMBATAXT.  35 

The  Captain  was  to  set  off  on  the  fourth  day,  to  purchase 
or  seize  some  hay  and  grain  that  were  stacked  at  neighbor- 
ing farms.  We  prepared  to  go  at  eight  o'clock,  but  were 
detained  somewhat  by  reason  of  Skyhiski  being  inebriated 
the  night  before,  and  thereby  delaying  the  breakfast,  and 
afterward  the  fact  that  the  black  stallion  had  laid  open  the 
black-boy's  leg.  However,  at  a  quarter  past  nine,  the  Cap- 
tain, Sergeant  Clover,  Fogg,  Owen,  and  myself,  with  six 
four-horse  wagons,  filed  down  the  railroad  track  until  we 
came  to  a  bridge  that  some  laborers  were  repairing,  where 
we  turned  to  the  left  through  some  soggy  fields,  and  forded 
Difficult  Creek.  As  there  was  no  road  to  follow,  we  kept 
straight  through  a  wood  of  young  maples  and  chestnut- 
trees.  Occasionally  a  trunk  or  projecting  branch  stopped 
the  wagons,  when  the  teamsters  opened  the  way  with  their 
axes.  After  two  hours  of  slow  advance,  we  came  to  the 
end  of  the  wood,  and  climbed  a  succession  of  hilly  fields. 
From  the  summit  of  the  last  of  these,  a  splendid  sweep  of 
farm  country  was  revealed,  dotted  with  quaint  Virginia 
dwellings,  stackyards,  and  negro-cabins,  and  divided  by 
mites  of  tortuous  worm-fence.  The  eyes  of  the  Quartermas- 
ter brightened  at  the  prospect,  though  I  am  afraid  that  he 
thought  only  of  the  abundant  forage  ;  but  my  own  grew 
hazy  as  I  spoke  of  the  peaceful  people  and  the  neglected  fields. 
The  plough  had  furrowed  none  of  these  acres,  and  some 
crows,  that  screamed  gutturally  from  a  neighboring  ash-, 
tree,  seemed  lean  and  pinched  for  lack  of  their  plunder  of 
corn. 

Many  of  the  dwellings  were  guarded  by  soldiers  ;  but  of 
the  resident  citizens  only  the  women  and  the  old  men 
remained.  I  did  not  need  to  ask  where  the  young  men 
were  exiled.  The  residue  that  prayed  with  their  faces 
toward  Richmond,  told  me  the  story  with  their  eyes.  There 
was,  nevertheless,  no  melodramatic  exhibition  of  feeling 
among  the  bereaved.  I  did  not  see  any  defiant  postures, 
nor  hear  any  melting  apostrophies.  Marius  was  not 


36  CAMPAIGNS   OF  A   NON-COMBATANT. 

mouthing  by  the  ruins  of  Carthage,  nor  even  Eachel  weep- 
ing for  her  Hebrew  children.  But  there  were  on  every  hand 
manifestations  of  adherence  to  the  Southern  cause,  except 
among  a  few  males  who  feared  unutterable  things,  and  were 
disposed  to  cringe  and  prevaricate.  The  women  were  not 
generally  handsome  ;  their  face  was  indolent,  their  dress 
slovenly,  and  their  manner  embarrassed.  They  lopped  off 
the  beginnings  and  the  ends  of  their  sentences,  generally 
commencing  with  a  verb,  as  thus :  "  Told  soldiers  not  to 
carr'  off  the  rye  ;  declared  they  would ;  said  they  bound  do 
jest  what  they  pleased.  Let  ;em  go  !  " 

The  Captain  stopped  at  a  spruce  residence,  approached 
by  a  long  lane,  and  on  knocking  at  the  poi'ch  with  his  pon- 
derous fist,  a  woman  came  timidly  to  the  kitchen  window. 

"  Who's  lhar  ?  "  she  said,  after  a  moment. 

"  Come  out  young  woman,"  said  the  Captain,  soothingly  ; 
"  we  don't  intend  to  murder  or  rob  you,  ma'am  !  " 

There  dropped  from  the  doorsill  into  the  yard,  not  one, 
but  three  young  women,  followed  by  a  very  deaf  old  man, 
who  appeared  to  think  that  the  Captain's  visit  bore  some 
reference  to  the  hencoop. 

"  I  wish  to  buy  for  the  use  of  the  United  States  Govern- 
ment," said  the  Captain,  "  some  stacks  of  hay  and  corn 
fodder,  that  lie  in  one  of  your  fields." 

"  The  last  hen  was  toted  off  this  morning  before  break- 
fast," said  the  old  man  ;  "  they  took  the  turkeys  yesterday, 
and  I  was  obliged  to  kill  the  ducks  or  I  shouldn't  have  had 
anything  to  eat." 

Here  Fogg  so  misdemeaned  himself,  as  to  laugh  through 
his  nose,  and  the  man  Clover  appeared  to  be  suddenly  inter- 
ested in  something  that  lay  in  a  mulberry-tree  opposite. 

"  I  am  provided  with  money  to  pay  liberally  for  your 
produce,  and  you  cannot  do  better  than  to  let  me  take  the 
stacks  :  leaving  you,  of  course,  enough  for  your  own  horses 
and  cattle." 

Here  the  old  man  pricked  up  his  ears,  and  said  that  he 


CAMPAIGNS  OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  37 

hadn't  heard  of  any  recent  battle  ;  for  his  part,  he  had  never 
been  a  politician  ;  but  thought  that  both  parties  were  a  little 
wrong  ;  and  wished  that  peace  would  return  :  for  he  was  a 
very  old  man,  and  was  sorry  that  folks  couldn't  let  quiet  folks' 
property  alone.  How  far  his  garrulity  might  have  betrayed 
him,  could  be  conjectured  only  by  one  of  the  girls  taking 
his  hand  and  leading  him  submissively  into  the  house. 

The  eldest  daughter  said  that  the  Captain  might  take  the 
stacks  at  his  own  valuation,  but  trusted  to  his  honor  as  a 
soldier,  and  as  he  seemed,  a  gentleman,  to  deal  justly  by 
them.  There  could  be  no  crop  harvested  for  a  twelve- 
month, and  beggary  looked  them  in  the  face.  I  have  never 
beheld  anything  more  chivalrously  gallant,  than  the  sturdy 
old  quartermaster's  attitude.  He  blended  in  tone  and 
face  the  politeness  of  a  diplomat  and  the  gentleness  of  a 
father.  They  asked  him  to  return  to  the  house,  with  his 
officers,  when  he  had  loaded  the  wagons  ;  for  dinner  was 
being  prepared,  and  they  hoped  that  Virginians  could  be 
hospitable,  even  to  their  enemies.  As  to  the  hay  and 
fodder,  none  need  be  left ;  for  the  Confederates  had  seized 
their  horses  some  months  before,  and  driven  off  their  cows 
when  they  retired  from  the  neighborhood. 

I  so  admired  the  queer  gables  and  great  brick  ovens  of 
the  house,  that.  I  resolved  to  tie  my  horse,  and  rest  under 
the  crooked  porch.  The  eldest  young  lady  had  taken  me 
to  be  a  prisoner,  and  was  greatly  astonished  that  the  Quar- 
termaster permitted  me  to  go  at  large.  She  asked  me  to 
have  a  chair  in  the  parlor,  but  when  I  made  my  appearance 
there,  the  two  younger  sisters  fled  precipitately.  The  old 
man  was  shaking  his  head  sadly  by  the  fireplace.  Some  logs 
burned  on  the  andirons  with  a  red  flame.  The  furniture 
consisted  of  a  mahogany  sideboard,  table,  and  chairs,  —  pon- 
•.  derous  in  pattern  ;  and  a  series  of  family  portraits,  in  a 
sprawling  style  of  art,  smirked  and  postured  on  the  wall. 
The  floor  was  bare,  but  shone  by  reason  of  repeated  scrub- 
4 


38  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

bing,  and  the  black  mantel-piece  was  a  fine  specimen  of 
colonial  carving  in  the  staunchest  of  walnut-wood. 

Directly  the  two  younger  girls  —  though  the  youngest 
must  have  been  twenty  years  of  age  —  came  back  with 
averted  eyes  and  the  silliest  of  giggles.  They  sat  a  little 
distance  apart,  and  occasionally  nodded  or  signalled  like 
school  children. 

"  Wish  you  would  stop,  Bell !  "  said  one  of  these  misses, 
—  whose  flaxen  hair  was  plastered  across  her  eyebrows,  and 
who  was  very  tall  and  slender. 

"See  if  I  don't  tell  on  you,"  said  the  other, — a  dark 
miss  with  roguish  eyes  and  fat,  plump  figure,  and  curls  that 
shook  ever  so  merrily  about  her  shoulders. 

"  Declar'  I  never  said  so,  if  he  asks  me  ;  declar'  I  will." 

"  Tell  on  you,  —  you  see  !  Won't  he  be  jealous  ?  How 
he  will  car'  on  !  " 

I  made  out  that  these  young  ladies  were  intent  upon  pub- 
lishing their  obligations  to  certain  sweethearts  of  theirs, 
who,  as  it  afterward  seemed,  were  in  the  army  at  Mariassas 
Junction.  I  said  to  the  curly-haired  miss,  that  she  was 
endangering  the  life  of  her  enamored  ;  for  it  would  become 
an  object  with  all  the  anxious  troops  in  the  vicinity  to  shorten 
his  days.  The  old  man  roused  up  here,  and  remarked  that 
his  health  certainly  was  declining;  but  he  hoped  to  survive 
a  while  longer  for  the  sake  of  his  children  ;  that  he  was  no 
politician,  and  always  said  that  the  negroes  were  very  un- 
grateful people.  He  caught  his  daughter's  eye  finally, 
and  cowered  stupidly,  nodding  at  the  fire. 

I  remarked  to  the  eldest  young  woman,  —  called  Prissy 
(Priscilla)  by  her  sister,  —  that  the  country  hereabout  was 
pleasantly  wooded.  She  said,  in  substance,  that  every  part 
of  Virginia  was  beautiful,  and  that  she  did  not  wish  to  sur- 
vive the  disgrace  of  the  old  commonwealth. 

"  Become  right  down  hateful  since  Yankees  invaded  it !  " 
exclaimed  Miss  Bell.  Some  Yankee's  handsome  sister," 
said  Miss  Bessie,  the  proprietor  of  the  curls,  "  think  some 
Yankees  puffick  gentlemen  !  " 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  39 

"  Oh,  you  traitor  !  "  said  the  other,  —  "  wish  Henry  heard 
you  say  that !  " 

Miss  Bell  intimated  that  she  should  take  the  first  oppor- 
tunity of  telling  him  the  same,  and  I  eulogized  her  good 
judgment.  Priscilla  now  begged  to  be  excused  for  a  mo- 
ment, as,  since  the  flight  of  the  negro  property,  the  care  of 
the  table  had  devolved  mainly  upon  her.  A  single  aged 
servant,  too  feeble  or  too  faithful  to  decamp,  still  attended 
to  the  menial  functions,  and  two  mulatto  children  remained 
to  relieve  them  of  light  labor.  She  was  a  dignified,  ma- 
tronly young  lady,  and,  as  one  of  the  sisters  informed  me, 
plighted  to  a  Major  in  the  Confederate  service.  The  others 
chattered  flippantly  for  an  hour,  and  said  that  the  old  place 
was  dreadfully  lonesome  of  late.  Miss  Bell  was  sure  she 
should  die  if  another  winter,  similar  to  the  last,  occurred. 
She  loved  company,  and  had  always  found  it  so  lively  in 
Loudon  before  ;  whereas  she  had  positively  been  but  twice 
to  a  neighbor's  for  a  twelvemonth,  and  had  quite  forgotten 
the  road  to  the  mill.  She  said,  finally,  that,  rather  than 
undergo  another  such  isolation,  she  would  become  a  Vivan- 
diere  in  the  Yankee  army.  The  slender  sister  was  alto- 
gether wedded  to  the  idea  of  her  lover's.  "  Wouldn't  she 
tell  Henry  ?  and  shouldn't  she  write  to  Jeems  ?  and  oh, 
Bessie,  you  would  not  dare  to  repeat  that  before  him."  In 
short,  I  was  at  first  amused,  and  afterwards  annoyed,  by 
this  young  lady,  whereas  the  roguish-eyed  miss  improved 
greatly  upon  acquaintance. 

After  a  while,  Captain  Kingwalt  came  in,  trailing  his 
spurs  over  the  floor,  and  leaving  sunshine  in  his  wake. 
There  was  something  galvanic  in  his  gentleness,  and  infec- 
tious in  his  merriment.  He  told  them  at  dinner  of  his  own 
daughters  on  the  Brandywine,  and  invented  stories  of  Fogg's 
courtships,  till  that  young  gentleman  first  blushed,  and 
afterward  dropped  his  plate.  Our  meal  was  a  frugal  one, 
consisting  mainly  of  the  ducks  referred  to,  some  vegetables, 
corn-bread,  and  coffee  made  of  wasted  rye.  There  were 


40  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

neither  sugar,  spices,  nor  tea,  on  the  premises,  and  the  salt 
before  us  was  the  last  in  the  dwelling.  The  Captain  prom- 
ised to  send  them  both  coffee  and  salt,  and  Fogg  volunteered 
to  bring  the  same  to  the  house,  whereat  the  Captain  teased 
him  till  he  left  the  table. 

At  this  time,  a  little  boy,  who  was  ostensibly  a  waiter, 
cried  :  "  Miss  Prissy,  soldiers  is  climbin'  in  de  hog-pen." 

"  I  knew  we  should  lose  the  last  living  thing  on  the  prop- 
erty," said  this  young  lady,  much  distressed. 

The  Captain  went  to  the  door,  and  found  three  strolling 
Bucktails  looking  covetously  at  the  swine.  They  were  a 
little  discomposed  at  his  appearance,  and  edged  off  suspi- 
ciously. 

"  Halt !  "  said  the  old  man  in  his  great  voice,  "  where 
are  you  men  going  ?  " 

"Just  makin'  reconnoissance,"  said  one  of  the  freeboot- 
ers ;  "  s'pose  a  feller  has  a  right  to  walk  around,  hain't 
he?" 

"Not  unless  he  has  a  pass,"  said  the  Quartermaster; 
"  have  you  written  permission  to  leave  camp  ?  " 

"  Left'nant  s'posed  we  might.  Don't  know  as  it's  your 
business.  Never  see  you  in  the  regiment." 

"  It  is  my  business,  as  an  officer  of  the  United  States,  to 
see  that  no  soldier  strays  from  camp  unauthorizedly,  or  dep- 
redates upon  private  property.  I  will  take  your  names,  arid 
report  you,  first  for  straggling,  secondly  for  insolence  !  " 

"  Put  to  it,  Bill !  "  said  the  speaker  of  the  foragers  ; 
"  run,  Bob  !  go  it  hearties  !  "  And  they  took  to  their  heels, 
cleared  a  pair  of  fences,  and  were  lost  behind  some  out- 
buildings. The  Captain  could  be  harsh  as  well  as  gener- 
.ous,  and  was  about  mounting  his  horse  impulsively,  to 
overtake  and  punish  the  fugitives,  when  Priscilla  begged 
him  to  refrain,  as  an  enforcement  of  discipline  on  his  part 
might  bring  insult  upon  her  helpless  household.  I  availed 
myself  of  a  pause  in  the  Captain's  wrath,  to  ask  Miss  Pris- 
cilla if  she  would  allow  me  to  lodge  in  the  dwelling.  Five 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  41 

nights'  experience  in  camp  had  somewhat  reduced  my  en- 
thusiasm, and  I  already  wearied  of  the  damp  beds,  the  hard 
fare,  and  the  coarse  conversation  of  the  bivouac.  The 
young  lady  assented  willingly,  as  she  stated  that  the  pres- 
ence of  a  young  man  would  both  amuse  and  protect  the 
family.  For  several  nights  she  had  not  slept,  and  had  im- 
agined footsteps  on  the  porch  and  the  drawing  of  window- 
bolts.  There  was  a  bed,  formerly  occupied  by  her  brother, 
that  I  might  take,  but  must  depend  upon  rather  laggard  at- 
tendance. I  had  the  satisfaction,  therefore,  of  seeing  the 
Captain  and  retinue  mount  their  horses,  and  wave  me  a  tem- 
porary good  by.  Poor  Fogg  looked  back  so  often  and  so 
seriously  that  I  expected  to  see  him  fall  from  the  saddle. 
The  young  ladies  were  much  impressed  with  the  Captain's 
manliness,  and  Miss  Bell  wondered  hoiv  such  a  puffick  gen- 
tleman could  reconcile  himself  to  the  Yankee  cause.  She 
had  felt  a  desire  to  speak  to  him  upon  that  point  as  she  was 
sure  he  was  of  fine  stock,  and  entirely  averse  to  the  inva- 
sion of  such  territory  as  that  of  dear  old  Virginia.  There 
was  something  in  his  manner  that  so  reminded  her  of  some 
one  who  should  be  nameless  for  the  present ;  but  the  "  name- 
less "  was,  of  course,  young,  handsome,  and  so  brave.  I 
ruthlessly  dissipated  her  theory  of  the  Captain's  origin,  by 
stating  that  he  was  of  humble  German  descent,  so  far  as  I 
knew,  and  had  probably  never  beheld  Virginia  till  preceded 
by  the  bayonets  of  his  neighbors. 

After  tea  Miss  Bessie  produced  a  pitcher  of  rare  cider, 
that  came  from  a  certain  mysterious  quarter  of  the  cellar. 
A  chessboard  was  forthcoming  at  a  later  hour,  when  we 
amused  ourselves  with  a  couple  of  games,  facetiously  dub- 
bing our  chessman  Federals  and  Confederates.  Miss  Bell, 
meanwhile,  betook  herself  to  a  diary,  wherein  she  minutely 
related  the  incidents  and  sentiments  of  successive  days. 
The  quantity  of  words  underscored  in  the  same  autobiog- 
raphy would  have  speedily  exhausted  the  case  of  italics,  if 
the  printer  had  obtained  it.  I  was  so  beguiled  by  these  pa- 
4* 


42  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A    NOX-COMBATAXT. 

triarchal  people,  that  I  several  times  asked  myself  if  the  cir- 
cumstances were  real.  Was  I  iu  a  hostile  country,  sur- 
rounded by  thousands  of  armed  men  ?  Were  the  incidents 
of  this  evening  portions  of  an  historic  era,  and  the  ground 
about  me  to  be  commemorated  by  bloodshed  ?  Was  this,  iu 
fact,  revolution,  and  were  these  simple  country  girls  and 
their  lovers  revolutionists  ?  The  logs  burned  cheerily  upon 
the  hearth,  and  the  ancestral  portraits  glowered  contempla- 
tively from  the  walls.  Miss  Prissy  looked  dreamily  into 
the  fire,  and  the  old  man  snored  wheezily  in  a  corner.  A 
gray  cat  purred  in  Miss  Bell's  lap,  and  Miss  Bessie  was 
writing  some  nonsense  in  my  note-book. 

A  sharp  knock  fell  upon  the  door,  and  something  that 
sounded  like  the  butt  of  a  musket  shook  the  porch  without. 
The  girls  turned  pale,  and  I  think  that  Miss  Bessie  seized 
my  arm  and  clung  to  it.  I  think  also,  that  Miss  Bell  at- 
tempted to  take  the  other  arm,  to  which  I  demurred. 

"Those  brutal  soldiers  again!  "  said  Priscilla,  faintly 

"I  think  one  of  the  andirons  has  fallen  down,  darter!" 
said  the  old  man,  rousing  up. 

"  Tremble  for  my  life,"  said  Miss  Bell ;  "  sure  shall  die  if 
it's  a  man." 

I  opened  the  door  after  a  little  pause,  when  a  couple  of 
rough  privates  in  uniform  confronted  me. 

"  We're  two  guards  that  General  Meade  sent  to  protect 
the  house  and  property,"  said  the  tallest  of  these  men; 
"  might  a  feller  come  in  and  warm  his  feet !  " 

I  understood  at  once  that  the  Quartermaster  had  obtained 
these  persons  ;  and  the  other  man  coming  forward,  said  — 

"  I  fetched  some  cofiee  over,  and  a  bag  o'  salt,  with  Cor- 
poral Fogg's  compliments." 

They  deposited  their  muskets  in  a  corner,  and  balanced 
their  boots  on  the  fender.  Nothing  was  said  for  a  time. 

"  Did  you  lose  yer  poultry  ?  "  said  the  tall  man,  at  length. 

"  All,"  said  Miss  Priscilla. 

"Fellers  loves  poultry!"  said  the  man,  smacking  his 
lips. 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  43 

"  Did  you  lose  yer  sheep  ?  "  said  the  same  man,  after  a 
little  silence. 

"The  Bucktails  cut  their  throats  the  first  day  that  they 
encamped  at  the  mill,"  said  Miss  Priscilla. 

"  Them  Bucktails  great  fellers,"  said  the  tall  man  ; 
"  them  Bucktails  awful  on  sheep  :  they  loves  'em  so  !  " 

He  relapsed  again  for  a  few  minutes,  when  he  continued  : 

"  You  don't  like  fellers  to  bag  yer  poultry  and  sheep,  do 
you  ?  " 

Miss  Priscilla  replied  that  it  was  both  dishonest  and 
cruel.  Miss  Bell  intimated  that  none  but  Yankees  would 
do  it. 

"P'raps  not,"  said  the  tall  soldier,  drily;  "did  you  ever 
grub  on  fat  pork,  Miss  ?  No  ?  Did  you  ever  gnaw  yer  hard 
tack  after  a  spell  o'  sickness,  and  a  ten-hour  march  ?  No  ? 
P'raps  you  might  like  a  streak  o'  mutton  arterwards  ! 
P'raps  3'ou  might  take  a  notion  for  a  couple  o'  chickens  or 
so  !  No  ?  How's  that,  Ike  ?  What  do  you  think,  pard- 
ner?  (to  me)  I  ain't  over  and  above  cruel,  mum.  I  don't 
think  the  Bucktails  is  over  and  above  dishonest  to  home, 
mum.  But,  gosh  hang  it,  I  think  I  would  bag  a  chicken  any 
day  !  I  say  that  above  board.  Hey,  Ike  ?  " 

When  the  tall  man  and  his  inferior  satellite  had  warmed 
their  boots  till  they  smoked,  they  rose,  recovered  their  mus- 
kets, and  bowed  themselves  into  the  yard.  Soon  afterward 
I  bade  the  young  ladies  good  night,  and  repaired  to  my  room. 
The  tall  man  and  his  associate  were  pacing  up  and  down  the 
grass-plot,  and  they  looked  very  cold  and  comfortless,  I 
thought.  I  should  have  liked  to  obtain  for  them  a  draught 
of  cider,  but  prudently  abstained  ;  for  every  man  in  the 
army  would  thereby  become  cognizant  of  its  existence.  So 
I  placed  my  head  once  more  upon  a  soft  pillow,  and  pitied 
the  chilled  soldiers  who  slept  upon  the  turf.  I  thought  of 
Miss  Bessie  with  her  roguish  eyes,  and  wondered  what 
themes  were  now  engrossing  her.  I  asked  myself  if  this 
was  the  romance  of  war,  and  if  it  would  bear  relating  to 


44  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT. 

one's  children  when  he  grew  as  old  and  as  deaf  as  the 
wheezy  gentleman  down-stairs.  In  fine,  I  was  a  little  sen- 
timental, somewhat  reflective,  and  very  drowsy.  So,  after 
a  while,  processions  of  freebooting  soldiers,  foraging  Quar- 
termasters, deaf  gentlemen,  Fogg's  regiment,  and  multi- 
tudes of  ghosts  from  Mauassas,  drifted  by  in  my  dreams. 
And,  in  the  end,  Miss  Bessie's  long  curls  brushed  into  my 
eyes,  and  I  found  the  morning,  ruddy  as  her  cheeks,  blush- 
ing at  the  window. 


CHAPTER  V. 

WHAT   A   MARCH   IS    IN   FACT. 

I  FOUND  at  breakfast,  that  Miss  Bessie  had  been  placed 
beside  me,  and  I  so  far  forgot  myself  as  to  forget  all  other 
persons  at  the  table.  Miss  Priscilla  asked  to  be  helped  to 
the  corn-bread,  and  I  deposited  a  quantity  of  the  same  upon 
Miss  Bessie's  plate.  .Miss  Bell  asked  if  I  did  not  love  dear 
old  Virginia,  and  I  replied  to  Miss  Bessie  that  it  had  lately 
become  very  attractive,  and  that,  in  fact,  I  was  decidedly 
rebellious  in  my  sympathy  with  the  distressed  Virginians. 
I  did  except,  however,  the  man  darkly  mooted  as  "  Henry," 
and  hoped  that  he  would  be  disfigured  —  not  killed  —  at 
the  earliest  engagement.  The  deaf  old  gentleman  bristled 
up  here  and  asked  ivho  had  been  killed  at  the  recent  engage- 
ment. There  was  a  man  named  Jeems  Lee,  —  a  distant 
connection  of  the  Lightfoots,  —  not  the  Hampshire  Light- 
foots,  but  the  Fauquier  Lightfoots,  —  who  had  distinctly 
appeared  to  the  old  gentleman  for  several  nights,  robed  in 
black,  and  carrying  a  coffin  under  his  arm.  Since  I  had 
mentioned  his  name,  he  recalled  the  circumstance,  and 
hoped  that  Jeems  Lightfoot  had  not  disgraced  his  ancestry. 
Nevertheless,  the  deaf  gentleman  was  not  to  be  understood 
as  expressing  any  opinion  upon  the  merits  of  the  war.  For 
his  part  he  thought  both  sides  a  little  wrong,  and  the  crops 
were  really  in  a  dreadful  state.  The  negroes  were  very  un- 
grateful people  and  property  should  be  held  sacred  by  all 
belligerents. 

(45) 


46  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT. 

At  this  point  he  caught  Miss  Priscilla's  eye,  and  was 
transfixed  with  conscious  guilt. 

I  had,  meantime,  been  infringing  upon  Miss  Bessie's  feet, 
—  very  pretty  feet  they  were  !  —  which  expressive  but  not 
very  refined  method  of  correspondence  caused  her  to  blush 
to  the  eyes.  Miss  Bell,  noticing  the  same,  was  determined 
to  tell  '  Henry '  at  once,  and  I  hoped  in  my  heart  that  she 
would  set  out  for  Manassas  to  further- that  purpose. 

The  door  opened  here,  and  the  rubicund  visage  of  Mr. 
Fogg  appeared  like  the  head  of  the  Medusa.  He  said  that 
'  Captain '  had  ordered  the  blue  roan  to  be  saddled  and 
brought  over  to  me,  but  I  knew  that  this  was  a  cunning 
device  on  his  part,  to  revisit  the  dwelling.  Miss  Bell, 
somehow  caught  the  idea  that  Fogg  was  enamored  of  her, 
and  the  poor  fellow  was  subjected  to  a  volley  of  tender 
innuendos  and  languishing  glances,  that  by  turn  mortified 
and  enraged  him. 

I  bade  the  good  people  adieu  at  eight  o'clock,  promising 
to  return  for  dinner  at  five  ;  and  Miss  Bessie  accompanied 
me  to  the  lane,  where  I  took  leave  of  her  with  a  secret 
whisper  and  a  warm  grasp  of  the  hand.  One  of  her  rings 
had  somehow  adhered  to  my  finger,  which  Fogg  remarked 
with  a  bilious  expression  of  countenance.  I  had  no  sooner 
got  astride  of  the  blue  roan  than  he  darted  off  like  the  wind, 
and  subjected  me  to  great  terror,  alternating  to  chagrin, 
when  I  turned  back  and  beheld  all  the  young  ladies  waving 
their  handkerchiefs.  They  evidently  thought  me  an  unri- 
valled equestrian. 

I  rode  to  a  picket  post  two  miles  from  the  mill,  passing- 
over  the  spot  where  the  Confederate  soldier  had  fallen. 
The  picket  consisted  of  two  companies  or  one  hundred  and 
sixty  men.  Half  of  them  were  sitting  around  a  fire  con- 
cealed in  the  woods,  and  the  rest  were  scattered  along  the 
edges  of  a  piece  of  close  timber.  I  climbed  a  lookout-tree  by 
means  of  cross-strips  nailed  to  the  trunk,  and  beheld  from 
the  summit  a  long  succession  of  hazy  hills,  valleys,  and 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  47 

forests,  with  the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains  bounding  the  dis- 
tance, like  some  mighty  monster,  enclosing  the  world  in  its 
coils.  This  was  the  country  of  the  enemy,  and  a  Lieutenant 
obligingly  pointed  out  to  me  the  curling  smoke  of  their 
pickets,  a  few  miles  away.  The  cleft  of  Manassas  was 
plainly  visible,  and  I  traced  the  line  of  the  Gap  Railway  to 
its  junction  with  the  Orange  and  Alexandria  road,  below 
Bull  Run.  For  aught  that  I  knew,  some  concealed  observer 
might  now  be  watching  me  from  the  pine-tops  on  the  near- 
est knoll.  Some  rifleman  might  be  running  his  practised 
eye  down  the  deadly  groove,  to  topple  me  from  my  perch, 
and  send  me  crashing  through  the  boughs.  The  uncer- 
tainty, the  hazard,  the  novelty  of  my  position  had  at  this 
time  an  indescribable  charm  :  but  subsequent  exposures 
dissipated  the  romance  and  taught  me  the  folly  of  such 
adventures. 

The  afternoon  went  dryly  by  :  for  a  drizzling  rain  fell  at 
noon  ;  but  at  four  o'clock  I  saddled  the  blue  roan  and  went 

to  ride  with  Fogg.  We  retraced  the  road  to  Colonel  T s,. 

and  crossing  a  boggy  brook,  turned  up  the  hills  and  passed 
toward  the  Potomac.  Fogg  had  been  a  schoolmaster,  and 
many  of  his  narrations  indicated  keen  perception  and  clever 
comprehension.  He  so  amused  me  on  this  particular  occa- 
sion that  I  quite  forgot  my  engagement  for  dinner,  and 
unwittingly  strolled  beyond  the  farthest  brigade. 

Suddenly,  we  heard  a  bugle-call  from  the  picket-post 
before  us,  and,  at  the  same  moment,  the  drums  beat  from  the 
camp  behind.  Our  horses  pricked  up  their  ears  and  Fogg 
stared  inquiringly.  As  we  turned  back  we  heard  approach- 
ing hoofs  and  the  blue  roan  exhibited  intentions  of  running 
away.  I  pulled  his  rein  in  vain.  He  would  neither  be 
soothed  nor  commanded.  A  whole  company  of  cavalry 
closed  up  with  him  at  length,  and  the  sabres  clattered  in 
their  scabbards  as  they  galloped  toward  camp  at  the  top  of 
their  speed.  With  a  spring  that  almost  shook  me  from  the 
saddle  and  drove  the  stirrups  flying  from  my  feet,  the  blue 


48  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

roan  dashed  the  dust  into  the  eyes  of  Fogg,  and  led  the 
race. 

Not  the  wild  yager  on  his  gait  to  perdition,  rode  so  fear- 
fully. Trees,  bogs,  huts,  bushes,  went  by  like  lightning. 
The  hot  breath  of  the  nag  rose  to  my  nostrils  and  at  every 
leap  I  seemed  vaulting  among  the  spheres. 

I  speak  thus  flippantly  now,  of  what  was  then  the  agony 
of  death.  I  grasped  the  pommel  of  my  saddle,  mechanically 
winding  the  lines  about  my  wrist,  and  clung  with  the  tenac- 
ity of  sin  clutching  the  world.  Some  soldiers  looked  won- 
deringly  from  the  wayside,  but  did  not  heed  my  shriek 
of"  stop  him,  for  God's  sake  !  "  A  ditch  crossed  the  lane, 
—  deep  and  wide,  — and  I  felt  that  my  moment  had  come  : 
with  a  spring  that  seemed  to  break  thew  and  sinew,  the 
blue  roan  cleared  it,  pitching  upon  his  knees,  but  recovered 
directly  and  dai'ted  onward  again.  I  knew  that  I  should 
fall  headlong  now,  to  be  trampled  by  the  fierce  horsemen 
behind,  but  retained  my  grasp  though  my  heart  was  choking 
me.  The  camps  were  in  confusion  as  I  swept  past  them. 
A  sharp  clearness  of  sense  and  thought  enabled  me  to  note 
distinctly  the  minutest  occurrences.  I  marked  long  lines  of 
men  cloaked,  and  carrying  knapsacks,  drummer-boys  beat- 
ing music  that  I  had  whistled  in  many  a  ramble,  —  field- 
officers  shouting  orders  from  their  saddles,  and  cannon  lim- 
bered up  as  if  ready  to  move,  —  tents  taken  down  and  teams 
waiting  to  .be  loaded;  all  the  evidences  of  an  advance,  that 
I  alas  should  never  witness,  lying  bruised  and  mangled  by 
the  roadside.  A  cheer  saluted  me  as  I  passed  some  of 
Meade's  regiments.  "It  is  the  scout  that  fetched  the 
orders  for  an  advance ! "  said  several,  and  one  man  re- 
marked that  "  that  feller  was  the  most  reckless  rider  he 
had  ever  beheld."  The  crisis  came  at  length  :  a  wagon 
had  stopped  the  way  ;  my  horse  in  turning  it,  stepped  upon 
a  stake,  and  slipping  rolled  heavily  upon  his  side,  tossing 
me  like  an  acrobat,  over  his  head,  but  without  further 
injury  than  a  terrible  nervous  shock  and  a  rent  in  my  panta- 
loons. 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  4$ 

I  employed  a  small  boy  to  lead  the  blue  roan  to  Captain 
Kingwalt's  quarters,  and  as  I  limped  wearily  after,  some 
regiments  came  toward  me  through  the  fields.  General 
McCall  responded  to  my  salute  ;  he  rode  in  the  advance. 
The  Quartermaster's  party  was  loading  the  tents  and  uten- 
sils. The  rain  fell  smartly  as  dusk  deepened  into  night,  and 
the  brush  tents  now  deserted  by  the  soldiers,  were  set  on 
fire.  Being  composed  of  dry  combustible  material,  they 
burned  rapidly  and  with  an  intense  flame.  The  fields  in 
every  direction  were  revealed,  swarming  with  men,  horses, 
batteries,  and  wagons.  Some  of  the  regiments  began  the 
march  in  silence  ;  others  sang  familiar  ballads  as  they  moved 
in  column.  A  few,  riotously  disposed,  shrieked,  whistled, 
and  cheered.  The  standards  were  folded ;  the  drums  did 
not  mark  time  ;  the  orders  were  few  and  short.  The  can- 
noneers sat  moodily  upon  the  caissons,  and  the  cavalry-men 
walked  their  horses  sedately.  Although  fifteen  thousand  * 
men  comprised  the  whole  corps,  each  of  its  three  brigades 
would  have  seemed  as  numerous  to  a  novice.  The  teams 
of  each  brigade  closed  up  the  rear,  and  a  quartermaster's 
guard  was  detailed  from  each  regiment  to  march  beside  its 
own  wagons.  When  the  troops  were  fairly  under  way,  and 
the  brush  burning  along  from  continuous  miles  of  road,  the 
effect  was  grand  beyond  all  that  I  had  witnessed.  The 
country  people  gathered  in  fright  at  the  cottage  doors,  and 
the  farm-dogs  bayed  dismally  at  the  unwonted  scene.  I 
refused  to  ride  the  blue  roan  again,  but  transferred  my  saddle 
to  a  team  horse  that  appeared  to  be  given  to  a  sort  of  equine 
somnambulism,  and  once  or  twice  attempted  to  lie  down  by 
the  roadside.  At  nine  o'clock  I  set  out  with  Fogg,  who 
slipped  a  flask  of  spirits  into  my  haversack.  Following  the 
tardy  movement  of  the  teams,  we  turned  our  faces  toward 
Washington.  I  was  soon  wet  to  the  skin,  and  my  saddle  cush- 
ion was  soaking  with  water.  The  streams  crossing  the  road 
were  swollen  with  rain,  and  the  great  team  wheels  clogged 
on  the  slimy  banks.  We  were  sometimes  delayed  a  half 


50  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

hour  by  a  single  wagon,  the  storm  beating  pitilessly  in  our 
faces  the  while.  During  the  stoppages,  the  Quartermaster's 
guards  burned  all  the  fence  rails  in  the  vicinity,  and  some 
of  the  more  indurated  sat  round  the  fagots  and  gamed 
with  cards. 

Cold,  taciturn,  miserable,  I  thought  of  the  quiet  farm, 
house,  the  ruddy  hearth-place,  and  the  smoking  supper.  I 
wondered  if  the  roguish  eyes  were  not  a  little  sad,  and  the 
trim  feet  a  little  restless,  the  chessmen  somewhat  stupid,  and 
the  good  old  house  a  trifle  lonesome.  Alas  !  the  intimacy 
so  pleasantly  commenced,  was  never  to  be  renewed.  With 
the  thousand  and  one  airy  palaces  that  youth  builds  and 
time  annihilates,  my  first  romance  of  war  towered  to  the 
stars  in  a  day,  and  crumbled  to  earth  in  a  night. 

At  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  we  halted  at  Metropolitan 
Mills,  on  the  Alexandria  and  Leesburg  turnpike.  A  bridge 
had  been  destroyed  below,  and  the  creek  was  so  swollen 
that  neither  artillery  nor  cavalry  could  ford  it.  The  mead- 
ows were  submerged  and  the  rain  still  descended  in  torrents. 
The  chilled  troops  made  bonfires  of  some  new  panel  fence,  and 
stormed  all  the  henroosts  in  the  vicinity.  Some  pigs,  that 
betrayed  their  whereabouts  by  inoportune  whines  and  grunts, 
were  speedily  confiscated,  slaughtered,  and  spitted.  We 
erected  our  tarpaulin  in  a  ploughed  field,  and  Fogg  laid 
some  sharp  rails  upon  the  ground  to  make  us  a  dry  bed. 
Skyhiski  fried  a  quantity  of  fresh  beef,  and  boiled  some 
coflee  ;  but  while  we  ate  heartily,  theorizing  as  to  the  desti- 
nation of  the  corps,  the  poor  Captain  was  terribly  shaken 
by  his  ague. 

I  woke  in  the  morning  with  inflamed  throat,  rheumatic 
limbs,  and  every  indication  of  chills  and  fever.  Fogg  whis- 
pered to  me  at  breakfast  that  two  men  of  Reynold's  brigade 
had  died  during  the  night,  from  fatigue  and  exposure.  He 
advised  me  to  push  forward  to  Washington  and  await  the 
arrival  of  the  division,  as,  unused  to  the  hardships  of  a 
march,  I  might,  after  another  day's  experience,  become 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NOX-COMBATAXT.  51 

dangerously  ill.  I  set  out  at  five  o'clock,  resolving  to  ford 
the  creek,  resume  the  turnpike,  and  reach  Long  Bridge  at 
noon.  Passing  over  some  dozen  fields  in  which  my  horse 
at  every  step  sank  to  the  fetlocks,  I  travelled  along  the 
brink  of  the  stream  till  I  finally  reached  a  place  that  seemed 
to  be  shallow.  Bracing  myself  firmly  in  the  saddle,  I  urged 
my  unwilling  horse  into  the  waters,  and  emerged  half 
drowned  on  the  other  side.  It  happened,  however,  that  I 
had  crossed  only  a  branch  of  the  creek  and  gained  an  island. 
The  main  channel  was  yet  to  be  attempted,  and  I  saw  that 
it  was  deep,  broad,  and  violent.  I  followed  the  margin 
despairingly  for  a  half-mile,  when  I  came  to  a  log  footbridge, 
where  I  dismounted  and  swam  my  horse  through  the  turbu- 
lent waters.  I  had  now  so  far  diverged  from  the  turnpike  that 
I  was  at  a  loss  to  recover  it,  but  straying  forlornly  through  the 
woods,  struck  a  wagon  track  at  last,  and  pursued  it  hopefully, 
until,  to  my  confusion,  it  resolved  itself  to  two  tracks,  that 
went  in  contrary  directions.  My  horse  preferred  taking  to 
the  left,  but  after  riding  a  full  hour,  I  came  to  some  felled 
trees,  beyond  which  the  traces  did  not  go.  Eeturning,  weak 
and  bewildered,  I  adopted  the  discarded  route,  which  led 
me  to  a  worm-fence  at  the  edge  of  the  woods.  A  house  lay 
some  distance  off,  but  a  wheat-field  intervened,  and  I  might 
bring  the  vengeance  of  the  proprietor  upon  me  by  invading 
his  domain.  There  was  no  choice,  however  ;  so  I  removed 
the  rails,  and  rode  directly  across  the  wheat  to  some  negro 
quarters,  a  little  removed  from  the  mansion.  They  were 
deserted,  all  save  one,  where  a  black  boy  was  singing  some 
negro  hymns  in  an  uproarious  manner.  The  words,  as  I 
made  them  out,  were  these  :  — 

"  Stephen  came  a  runnin', 

His  Marster  fur  to  see ; 
But  Gabriel  says  he  is  not  yar' ; 
He  gone  to  Calvary ! 

0,  —  O,  —  Stephen,  Stephen, 

Fur  to  see ; 
Stephen,  Stephen,  get  along  up  Calvary !  " 


52  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    NOX-COMBATANT. 

I  learned  from  this  person  two  mortifying  facts, — that  I 
was  farther  from  Washington  than  at  the  beginning  of  my 
journey,  and  that  the  morrow  was  Sunday.  War,  alas ! 
knows  no  Sabbaths,  and  the  negro  said,  apologetically  — 

"  I  was  a  seyin'  some  ole  hymns,  young  Mars'r.  Sence 
dis  jrer  war  we  don't  have  no  more  meetin's,  and  a  body 
mos'  forgits  his  pra'rs.  Dere  hain't  been  no  church  in  all 
Fairfax,  sah,  fur  nigh  six  months." 

Washington  was  nineteen  miles  distant,  and  another 
creek  was  to  be  forded  before  gaining  the  turnpike.  The 
negro  sauntered  down  the  lane,  and  opened  the  gate  for  me. 
"  You  jes  keep  from  de  creek,  take  de  mill  road,  and  enqua' 
as  ye  get  furder  up,"  said  he ;  "  it's  mighty  easy,  sah,  an' 
you  can't  miss  de  way." 

I  missed  the  way  at  on^e,  however,  by  confounding  the 
mill  road  with  the  mill  lane,  and  a  shaggy  dog  that  lay  in  a 
wagon  shed  pursued  me  about  a  mile.  The  road  was  full 
of  mire  ;  no  dwellings  adjoined  it,  and  nothing  human  was 
to  be  seen  in  any  direction.  I  came  to  a  crumbling  negro 
cabin  after  two  plodding  hours,  and,  seeing  a  figure  flit  by 
the  window,  called  aloud  for  information.  Nobody  replied, 
and  when,  dismounting,  I  looked  into  the  den,  it  was,  to  my 
confusion,  vacant. 

The  soil,  hereabout,  was  of  a  sterile  red  clay,  spotted 
with  scrub  cedars.  Country  more  bleak  and  desolate  I  have 
never  known,  and  when,  at  noon,  the  rain  ceased,  a  keen 
wind  blew  dismally  across  the  barriers.  I  reached  a  turn- 
pike at  length,  and,  turning,  as  I  thought,  toward  Alexan- 
dria, goaded  my  horse  into  a  canter.  An  hour's  ride  brought 
me  to  a  wretched  hamlet,  whose  designation  I  inquired  of  a 
cadaverous  old  woman  — 

"  Drainesville,"  said  she. 

"  Then  I  am  not  upon  the  Alexandria  turnpike  ?  " 

"  No.  You're  sot  for  Leesburg.  This  is  the  George- 
town and  Chain  Bridge  road." 

With  a  heavy  heart,  I  retraced  my  steps,  crossed  Chain 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  53 

Bridge  at  five  o'clock,  and  halted  at  Kirkwood's  at  seven. 
After  dinner,  falling  in  with  the  manager  of  the  Washington 
Sunday  morning  Chronicle,  I  penned,  at  his  request,  a  few 
lines  relative  to  the  movements  of  the  Reserves ;  and,  learn- 
ing in  the  morning  that  they  had  arrived  at  Alexandria,  set 
out  on  horseback  for  that  city. 

Many  hamlets  and  towns  have  been  destroyed  during  the 
war.  But,  of  all  that  in  some  form  survive,  Alexandria  has 
most  suffered.  It  has  been  in  the  uninterrupted  possession 
of  the  Federals  for  twenty-two  months,  and  has  become  es- 
sentially a  military  city.  Its  streets,  its  docks,  its  ware- 
houses, its  dwellings,  and  its  suburbs,  have  been  absorbed 
to  the  thousand  uses  of  war. 

I  was  challenged  thrice  on  the  Long  Bridge,  and  five  times 
on  the  road,  before  reaching  the  city.  I  rode  under  the 
shadows  of  five  earthworks,  and  saw,  lines  of  white  tents 
sweeping  to  the  horizon.  Gayly  caparisoned  officers  passed 
me,  to  spend  their  Sabbath  in  Washington,  and  trains  laden 
with  troops,  ambulances,  and  batteries,  sped  along  the  line 
of  railway,  toward  the  rendezvous  at  Alexandria.  &  wag- 
oner, looking  forlornly  at  his  splintered  wheels  ;  a  slovenly 
guard,  watching  some  bales  of  hay ;  a  sombre  negro,  doz- 
ing upon  his  mule  ;  a  slatternly  Irish  woman  gossiping  with 
a  sergeant  at  her  cottage  door;  a  sutler  in  his  "dear-born," 
running  his  keen  eye  down  the  limbs  of  my  beast ;  a  spruce 
civilian  riding  for  curiosity  ;  a  gray-haired  gentleman,  in  a 
threadbare  suit,  going  to  camp  on  foot,  to  say  good  by  to 
his  boy, — these  were  some  of  tie  personages  that  I  re- 
marked, and  each  was  a  sjtudy,  a  sermon,  and  a  story.  The 
Potomac,  below  me,  was  dotted  with  steamers  and  shipping. 
The  bluffs  above  were  trodden  bare,  and  a  line  of  dismal 
marsh  bordered  some  stagnant  pools  that  blistered  at  their 
bases.  At  points  along  the  river-shore,  troops  were  em- 
barking on  board  steamers  ;  transports  were  taking  in  tons 
of  baggage  and  subsistence.  There  was  a  schooner,  laden 
to  the  water-line  with  locomotive  engines  and  burden  car- 
5* 


54  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

riages  ;  there,  a  brig,  shipping  artillery  horses  by  a  steam 
derrick,  that  lifted  them  bodily  from  the  shore  and  depos- 
ited them  in  the  hold  of  the  vessel.  Steamers,  from  whose 
spacious  saloons  the  tourist  and  the  bride  have  watched  the 
picturesque  margin  of  the  Hudson,  were  now  black  with 
clusters  of  rollicking  volunteers,  who  climbed  into  the  yards, 
and  pitched  headlong  from  the  wheel-houses.  The  "  grand 
movement,"  for  which  the  people  had  waited  so  long,  and 
which  McClellan  had  promised  so  often,  was  at  length  to  be 
made.  The  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  to  be  transferred  to 
Fortress  Monroe,  at  the  foot  of  the  Chesapeake,  and  to  ad- 
vance by  the  peninsula  of  the  James  and  the  York,  upon 
the  city  of  Richmond. 

I  rode  through  Washington  Street,  the  seat  of  some  an- 
cient residences,  and  found  ,  it  lined  with  freshly  arrived 
troops.  .  The  grave-slabs  in  a  fine  old  churchyard  were 
Btrewn  with  weary  cavalry-men,  and  they  lay  in  some  side 
yards,  soundly  sleeping.  Some  artillery-men  chatted  at 
doorsteps,  with  idle  house-girls ;  some  courtesans  flaunted 
in  furs  and  ostrich  feathers,  through  a  group  of  coarse  en- 
gineers ;  some  sergeants  of  artillery,  in  red  trimmings,  and 
caps  gilded  with  cannon,  were  reining  their  horses  to  leer 
at  some  ladies,  who  were  taking  the  air  in  their  gardens  ;  arid 
at  a  wide  place  in  the  street,  a  Provost-Major  was  manoeu- 
vring some  companies,  to  the  sound  of  the  drum  and  fife. 
There  was  much  drunkenness,  among  both  soldiers  and  civ- 
ilians ;  and  the  people  of  Alexandria  were,  in  many  cases, 
crushed  and  demoralized  by  reason  of  their  troubles.  One 
man  of  this  sort  led  me  to  a  sawmill,  now  run  by  Govern- 
ment, and  pointed  to  the  implements. 

"  I  bought  'em  and  earned  'em,"  he  said.  "  My  labor 
and  enterprise  set  'em  there  ;  and  while  my  mill  and  ma- 
chinery are  ruined  to  fill  the  pockets  o'  Federal  sharpers,  I 
go  drunk,  ragged,  and  poor  about  the  streets  o'  my  native 
town.  My  daughter  starves  in  Richmond ;  God  knows  I 
can't  get  to  her.  I  wish  to  h  —  II  was  dead." 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  55 

Further  inquiry  developed  the  facts  that  my  acquaint- 
ance had  been  a  thriving  builder,  who  had  dotted  all  North- 
eastern Virginia  with  evidences  of  his  handicraft.  At  the 
commencement  of  the  war,  he  took  certain  contracts  from 
the  Confederate  government,  for  the  construction  of  bar- 
racks at  Richmond  and  Manassas  Junction ;  returning 
inopportunely  to  Alexandria,  he  was  arrested,  and  kept 
some  time  in  Capitol-Hill  prison ;  he  had  not  taken  the  oath 
of  allegiance,  consequently,  he  could  obtain  no  recompense 
for  the  loss  of  his  mill  property.  Domestic  misfortunes, 
happening  at  the  same  time,  so  embittered  his  days  that  he 
resorted  to  dissipation.  Alexandria  is  filled  with  like  ruined 
people ;  they  walk  as  strangers  through  their  ancient 
streets,  niicl  their  property  is  no  longer  theirs  to  possess, 
but  has  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  dominant  nationalists. 
My  informant  pointed  out  the  residences  of  many  leading 
citizens :  some  were  now  hospitals,  others  armories  and  arse- 
nals; others  offices  for  inspectors,  superintendents,  and  civil 
officials.  The  few  people  that  remained  upon  their  properties, 
obtained  partial  immunity,  by  courting  the  acquaintance  of 
Federal  officers,  and,  in  many  cases,  extending  the  hospitali- 
ties of  their  homes  to  the  invaders.  I  do  not  know  that  any 
Federal  functionary  was  accused  of  tjrranny,  or  wantonness, 
but  these  things  ensued,  as  the  natural  results  of  civil  war ; 
and  one's  sympathies  were  everywhere  enlisted  for  the  poor, 
the  exiled,  and  the  bereaved. 

My  dinner  at  the  City  Hotel  was  scant  and  badly  pre- 
pared. I  gave  a  negro  lad  who  waited  upon  me  a  few 
cents,  but  a  burly  negro  carver,  who  seemed  to  be  his 
father,  boxed  the  boy's  ears  and  put  the  coppers  into  his 
pocket.  The  proprietor  of  the  place  had  voluntarily  taken 
the  oath  of  allegiance,  and  had  made  more  money  since  the 
date  of  Federal  occupation  than  during  his  whole  life  pre- 
viously. He  said  to  me,  curtly,  that  if  by  any  chance  the 
Confederates  should  reoccupy  Alexandria,  he  could  very 
well  afford  to  relinquish  his  property.  He  employed  a  smart 


50  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT. 

barkeeper,  who  led  guests  by  a  retired  way  to  the  drinking- 
rooms.  Here,  with  the  gas  burning  at  a  taper  point,  cob- 
blers, cocktails,  and  juleps  were  mixed  stealthily  and  swal- 
lowed in  the  darkness.  The  bar  was  like  a  mint  to  the 
proprietor;  he  only  feared  discovery  and  prohibition.  It 
would  not  accord  with  the  chaste  pages  of  this  narrative  to 
tell  how  some  of  the  noblest  residences  in  Alexandria  had 
been  desecrated  to  licentious  purposes  ;  nor  how,  by  night, 
the  parlors  of  cosey  homes  flamed  with  riot  and  orgie.  I 
stayed  but  a  little  time,  having  written  an  indiscreet  para- 
graph in  the  Washington  Chronicle,  for  which  I  was  pursued 
by  the  War  Department,  and  the  management  of  my  paper, 
lacking  heart,  I  went  home  in  a  pet. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

DOWN    THE    CHESAPEAKE. 

DISAPPOINTED  in  the  unlucky  termination  of  my  adventures 
afield,  I  now  looked  ambitiously  toward  New  York.  As 
London  stands  to  the  provinces,  so  stands  the  empire  city 
to  America.  Its-  journals  circulate  by  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands ;  its  means  are  only  rivalled  by  its  enterprise  ;  it  is  the 
end  of  every  young  American's  aspiration,  and  the  New 
Bohemia  for  the  restless,  the  brilliant,  and  the  industrious. 
It  seemed  a  great  way  off  when  I  first  beheld  it,  but  I  did 
not  therefore  despair.  Small  matters  of  news  that  I  gath- 
ered in  my  modest  city,  obtained  space  in  the  columns  of 

the  great  metropolitan  journal,  the .     After  a  time 

I  was  delegated  to  travel  in  search  of  special  incidents,  and 
finally,  when  the  noted  Tennessee  Unionist,  "Parson" 
Brownlow,  journeyed  eastward,  I  joined  his  suite,  and 
accompanied  him  to  New  York.  The  dream  of  many  months 

now  came  to  be  realized.     A  correspondent  on  the 's 

staff  had  been  derelict,  and  I  was  appointed  to  his  division. 
His  horse,  saddle,  field-glasses,  blankets,  and  pistols  were 
to  be  transferred,  and  I  was  to  proceed  without  delay  to 
Fortress  Monroe,  to  keep  with  the  advancing  columns  of 
McClellan. 

At  six  in  the  morning  I  embarked  ;  at  eleven  I  was 
whirled  through  my  own  city,  without  a  glimpse  of  my 
friends  ;  at  three  o'clock  I  dismounted  at  Baltimore,  and  at 
five  was  gliding  down  the  Patapsco,  under  the  shadows  of 

(57) 


58  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A    NON-COMBATANT. 

Fort  Federal  Hill,  and  the  white  walls  of  Fort  McHenry. 
The  latter  defence  is  renowned  for  its  gallant  resistance  to 
a  British  fleet  in  1813,  and  the  American  national  anthem, 
"  The  Star-Spangled  Banner,"  was  written  to  commemorate 
that  bombardment.  Fort  Carroll,  a  massive  structure  of 
hewn  stone,  with  arched  bomb-proof  and  three  tiers  of 
mounted  ordnance,  its  smooth  walls  washed  by  the  waves, 
and  its  unfinished  floors  still  ringing  with  the  trowel  and 
the  adze,  —  lies  some  miles  below,  at  a  narrow  passage  in 
the  stream.  Below,  the  shores  diverge,  and  at  dusk  we 
were  fairly  in  the  Chesapeake,  under  steam  and  sail,  speed- 
ing due  southward.  „ 

The  Adelaide  was  one  of  a  series  of  boats  making  daily 
trips  between  Baltimore  and  Old  Point.  Fourteen  hours 
were  required  to  accomplish  the  passage,  and  we  were 
not  to  arrive  till  seven  o'clock  next  morning.  I  was  so  for- 
tunate as  to  obtain  a  state-room,  but  many  passengers  were 
obliged  to  sleep  upon  sofas  or  the  cabin -floor.  These  boats 
monopolized  the  civil  traffic  between  the  North  and  the 
army,  although  they  were  reputed  to  be  owned  and  man- 
aged by  Secessionists.  None  were  allowed  to  embark  unless 
provided  with  Federal  passes  ;  but  there  were,  nevertheless, 
three  or  four  hundred  people  on  board.  About  one  fourth 
of  these  were  officers  and  soldiers  ;  one  half  sutlers,  traders, 
contractors,  newsmen,  and  idle  civilians,  anxious  to  witness 
a  battle,  or  stroll  over  the  fields  of  Big  Bethel,  Lee's  Mills, 
Yorktown,  Gloucester,  Williamsburg,  or  West  Point ;  the 
rest  were  females  on  missions  of  mercy,  on  visits  to  sons, 
brothers,  and  husbands,  and  on  the  way  to  their  homes  at 
Norfolk,  Suffolk,  or  Hampton.  Some  of  these  were  citizens 
of  Richmond,  who  believed  that  the  Federals  would  occupy 
the  city  in  a  few  days,  and  enable  them  to  resume  their  pro- 
fessions and  homes.  The  lower  decks  were  occupied  by 
negroes.  The  boat  was  heavily  freighted,  and  among  the 
parcels  that  littered  the  hold  and  steerage,  I  noticed  scores 
of  box  coffins  for  the  removal  of  corpses  from  the  field  to 


CAMPAIGNS   OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  59 

the  North.  There  were  quantities  of  spirits,  consigned 
mainly  to  Quartermasters,  but  evidently  the  property  of 
certain  Shylocks,  who  watched  the  barrels  greedily.  An 
embalmer  was  also  on  board,  with  his  ghostly  implements. 
He  was  a  sallow  man,  shabbily  attired,  and  appeared  to 
look  at  all  the  passengers  as  so  many  subjects  for  the  devel- 
opment of  his  art.  He  was  called  "  Doctor"  by  his  admir- 
ers, and  conversed  in  the  blandest  manner  of  the  triumphs 
of  his  system. 

"  There  are  certain  pretenders,"  he  said,  "  who  are  at  this 
moment  imposing  upon  the  Government.  I  regret  that  it  is 
necessary  to  repeat  it,  but  the  fact  exists  that  the  Govern- 
ment is  the  prey  of  harpies.  And  in  the  art  of  which  I  am  an 
humble  disciple,  —  that  of  injecting,  commonly  called  em- 
balming,—  the  frauds  are  most  deplorable.  There  was 
Major  Montague,  —  a  splendid  subject,  I  assure  you,  —  a 
subject  that  any  Professor  would  have  beautifully  preserved, 
—  a  subject  that  one  esteems  it  a  favor  to  obtain,  —  a  subject 
that  I  in  particular  would  have  been  proud  to  recetve  !  But 
what  were  the  circumstances  ?  I  do  assure  you  that  a 
person  named  Wigwart,  —  who  I  have  since  ascertained  to 
be  a  veterinary  butcher ;  in  plain  language,  a  doctor  of 
horses  and  asses, — imposed  upon  the  relatives  of  the 
deceased,  obtained  the  body,  and  absolutely  ruined  it  I  — 
absolutely  mangled  it !  I  may  say,  shamefully  disfigured 
it !  He  was  a  man,  sir,  six  feet  two,  —  about  your  height, 
I  think  !  (to  a  bystander.)  About  your  weight,  also  !  Indeed 
quite  like  you  !  And  allow  me  to  say  that,  if  you  should  fall 
into  my  hands,  I  would  leave  your  friends  no  cause  for 
offence  !  (Here  the  bystander  trembled  perceptibly,  and  I 
thought  tha^^H  doctor  was  about  to  take  his  life.)  Well ! 
/should  ha^BBsrated  thus  :  —  " 

Then  followWT  a  description  of  the  process,  narrated  with 
horrible  circumstantiality.  A  fluid  holding  in  solution 
pounded  glass  and  certain  chemicals,  was,  by  the  doctor's 
"  system,"  injected  into  the  bloodvessels,  and  the  subject 


60  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATAXT. 

at  the  same  time  bled  at  the  neck.  The  body  thus  became 
hard  and  stony,  and  would  retain  its  form  for  years.  He 
had,  by  his  account,  experimented  for  a  lifetime,  and  said 
that  little  "  Willie,"  the  son  of  President  Lincoln,  had  been 
so  preserved  that  his  fond  parents  must  have  enjoyed  his 
decease. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  the  late  lamented  practitioners,  Messrs. 
Burke  and  Hare,  were  likely  to  fade  into  insignificance, 
beside  this  new  light  of  science. 

I  went  upon  deck  for  some  moments,  and  marked  the 
beating  of  the  waves  ;  the  glitter  *>f  sea-lights  pulsing  on 
the  ripples  ;  the  sweep  of  belated  gulls  through  the  creak- 
ing rigging  ;  the  dark  hull  of  a  passing  vessel  with  a  grin- 
ning topmast  lantern  ;  the  vigilant  pilot,  whose  eyes  glared 
like  a  fiend's  upon  the  waste  of  blackness  ;  the  foam  that 
the  panting  screw  threw  against  the  cabin  windows ;  the  flap 
of  fishes  caught  in  the  threads  of  moonlight ;  the  depths  over 
which  one  bent,  peering  half  wistfully,  half  abstractedly, 
almost  crazily,  till  he  longed  to  drop  into  their  coolness, 
and  let  the  volumes  of  billow  roll  musically  above  him. 

A  woman  approached  me,  as  I  stood  against  the  great 
anchor,  thus  absorbed.  She  had  a  pale,  thin  face,  and  was 
scantily  clothed,  and  spoke  with  a  distrustful,  timorous 
voice  :  — 

"  You  don't  know  the  name  of  the  surgeon-general,  do 
you  sir !  " 

"  At  Washington,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  ;  at  Old  Point." 

I  offered  to  inquire  of  the  Captain  :  but  she  stopped  me, 
agitatedly.  "  It's  of  no  consequence,"  she  said,  —  "  that 
is,  it  is  of  great  consequence  to  me  ;  but  ptf^ps  it  would 
be  best  to  wait."  I  answered,  as  obligingBK  could,  that 
any  service  on  my  part  would  be  cheerful  ly^TOered. 

"  The  fact  is,  sir,"  she  said,  after  a  pause,  "  I  am  going  to 
Williarasburg,  to  —  find  —  the  —  the  body  —  of  my  —  boy." 

Here  her  speech  was  broken,  and  she  put  a  thin,  white 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  61 

hand  tremulously  to  her  eyes.  I  thought  that  any  person 
in  the  Federal  service  would  willingly  assist  her,  and  said 
so. 

"  He  was  not  a  Federal  soldier,  sir.  He  was  a  Confed- 
erate !  " 

This  considerably  altered  the  chances  of  success,  and  I 
was  obliged  to  undeceive  her  somewhat.  "  I  am  sure  it 
was  not  my  fault,"  she  continued,  "that  he  joined  the 
Rebellion.  You  don't  think  they'll  refuse  to  let  me  take  his 
bones  to  Baltimore,  do  you,  sir  ?  He  was  my  oldest  boy, 
and  his  brother,  my  second  son,  was  killed  at  Ball's  Bluff: 
He  was  in  the  Federal  service.  I  hardly  think  they  will 
refuse  me  the  poor  favor  of  laying  them  in  the  same  grave." 

I  spoke  of  the  difficulty  of  recognition,  of  the  remoteness 
of  the  field,  and  of  the  expense  attending  the  recovery  of 
any  remains,  particularly  those  of  the  enemy,  that,  left 
hastily  behind  in  retreat,  were  commonly  buried  in  trenches 
without  headboard  or  record.  She  said,  sadly,  that  she  had 
very  little  money,  and  that  she  could  barely  afford  the  jour- 
ney to  the  Fortress  and  return.  But  she  esteemed  her 
means  well  invested  if  her  object  could  be  attained. 

"  They  were  both  brave  boys,  sir  ;  but  I  could  never  get 
them  to  agree  politically.  William  was  a  Northerner  by 
education,  and  took  up  with  the  New  England  views,  and 
James  was  in  business  at  Richmond  when  the  war  com- 
menced. So  he  joined  the  Southern  army.  It's  a  sad  thing 
to  know  that  one's  children  died  enemies,  isn't  it  ?  And 
what  troubles  me  more  than  all,  sir,  is  that  James  was  at 
Ball's  Bluff  where  his  brother  fell.  It  makes  me  shudder 
to  think,  sometimes,  that  his  might  have  been  the  ball  that 
killed  him.'^fc 

The  treiflBrf  the  poor  creature  here  was  painful' to 
behold.  I  qroKe  soothingly  and  encouragingly,  but  with  a 
presentiment  that  she  must  be  disappointed.  While  I  was 
speaking  the  supper-bell  rang,  and  I  proposed  to  get  her  a 
seat  at  the  table. 

6 


02  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT. 

"  Xo,  thank  you,"  she  replied,  "  I  shall  take  no  meals  on 
the  vessel ;  I  must  travel  economically,  and  have  prepared 
some  lunch  that  will  serve  me.  Good  by,  sir !  " 

Poor  mothers  looking  for  dead  sons  !  God  help  them  !  I 
have  met  them  often  since  ;  but  the  figure  of  that  pale,  frail 
creature  flitting  about  the  open  deck,  —  alone,  hungry,  very 
poor,  —  troubles  me  still,  as  I  write.  I  found,  afterward, 
that  she  had  denied  herself  a  state-room,  and  intended  to 
sleep  in  a  saloon  chair.  I  persuaded  her  to  accept  my  berth, 
but  a  German,  who  occupied  the  same  apartment,  was  unwill- 
ing to  relinquish  his  bed,  and  I  had  the  power  only  to  give 
her  my  pillow. 

Supper  was  spread  in  the  forecabin,  and  at  the  signal  to 
assemble  the  men  rushed  to  the  tables  like  as  many  beasts  of 
prey.  A  captain  opposite  me  bolted  a  whole  mackerel  in  a 
twinkling,  and  spread  the  half-pound  of  butter  that  was  to 
serve  the  entire  vicinity  upon  a  single  slice  of  bread.  A 
sutler  beside  me  reached  his  fork  across  my  neck,  and 
plucked  a  young  chicken  bodily,  which  he  ate,  to  the  great 
disgust  of  some  others  who  were  eyeing  it.  The  waiter  ad- 
vanced with  some  steak,  but  before  he  reached  the  table,  a 
couple  of  Zouaves  dragged  it  from  the  tray,  and  laughed 
brutally  at  their  success.  The  motion  of  the  vessel  caused 
a  general  unsteadiness,  and  it  was  absolutely  dangerous  to 
move  one's  coffee  to  his  lips.  The  inveterate  hate  with 
which  corporations  are  regarded  in  America  was  here  evi- 
denced by  a  general  desire  to  empty  the  ship's  larder. 

"Eat  all  you  can,"  said  a  soldier,  ferociously,  —  "fare's 
amazin'  high.  Must  make  it  out  in  grub." 

"I  always  gorges,"  said  another,  "on  a  railroad  or  a 
steamboat.  Cause  why  ?  You  must  eat  on^^ir  passage, 
you  know  I " 

Among  the  passengers  were  a  young  officerrmd  his  bride. 
They  had  been  married  only  a  few  days,  and  sire  had  ob- 
tained permission  to  accompany  him  to  Old  Point.  Very 
pretty,  she  seemed,  in  her  travelling  hat  and  flowing  robes ; 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    NON-COMBATANT.  63 

and  he  wore  a  handsome  new  uniform  with  prodigious 
shoulder-bars.  There  was  a  piano  in  the  saloon,  where 
another  young  lady  of  the  party  performed  during  the 
evening,  and  the  bride  and  groom  accompanied  her  with  a 
song.  It  was  the  popular  Federal  parody  of  "  Gay  and 
Happy:" 

"  Then  let  the  South  fling  aloft  what  it  will,  — 
We  are  for  the  Union  still ! 

For  the  Union !    For  the  Union ! 
We  are  for  the  Union  still !  " 

The  bride  and  groom  sang  alternate  stanzas,  and  the  con- 
course of  soldiers,  civilians,  and  females  swelled  the  chorus. 
The  reserve  being  thus  broken,  the  young  officer  sang  the 
"  Star-Spangled  Banner,"  and  the  refrain  must  have  called 
up  the  mermaids.  Dancing  ensued,  and  a  soldier  volunteered 
a  hornpipe.«  A  young  man  with  an  astonishing  compass  of 
lungs  repeated  something  from  Shakespeare,  and  the  night 
passed  by  gleefully  and  reputably.  One  could  hardly  real- 
ize, in  the  cheerful  eyes  and  active  figures  of  the  dance,  the 
sad  uncertainties  of  the  time.  Youth  trips  lightest,  some- 
how, on  the  brink  of  the  grave. 

The  hilarities  of  the  evening  so  influenced  the  German 
quartered  with  me,  that  he  sang  snatches  of  foreign  ballads 
during  most  of  the  night,  and  obliged  me,  at  last,  to  call 
the  steward  and  insist  upon  his  good  behavior. 

In  the  gray  of  the  morning  I  ventured  on  deck,  and,  fol- 
lowing the  silvery  line  of  beach,  made  out  the  shipping  at 
anchor  in  Hampton  Roads.  The  Minnesota  flag-ship  lay 
across  the  horizon,  and  after  a  time  I  remarked  the  low 
walls  and  bla#k  derricks  of  the  Rip  Raps.  The  white  tents 
at  Hampton'were  then  revealed,  and  finally  I  distinguished 
Fortress  Monroe,  the  key  of  the  Chesapeake,  bristling  with 
guns,  and  floating  the  Federal  flag.  As  we  rounded  to  off 
the  quay,  I  studied  with  intense  interest  the  scene  of  so 
many  historic  events.  Sewall's  Point  lay  to  the  south,  a 


C'i  CAMPAICxNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

stretch  of  woody  beach,  around  whose  western  tip  tho 
dreaded  Merrimac  had  so  often  moved  slowly  to  the  en- 
counter. The  spars  of  the  Congress  and  the  Cumberland 
still  floated  along  the  strand,  but,  like  them,  the  invulner- 
able monster  had  become  the  prey  of  the  waves.  The  guns 
of  the  Rip  Raps  and  the  terrible  broadsides  of  the  Federal 
gunboats,  had  swept  the  Confederates  from  Sewall's  Point, 
—  their  flag  and  battery  were  gone,  —  and  farther  seaward, 
at  Willoughby  Spit,  some  figures  upon  the  beach  marked 
the  route  of  the  victorious  Federals  to  the  city  of  Norfolk. 

The  mouth  of  the  James  and  the  York  were  visible  from 
the  deck,  and  long  lines  of  shipping  stretched  from  each 
to  the  Fortress.  The  quay  itself  was  like  the  pool  in  the 
Thames,  a  mass  of  spars,  smoke-stacks,  ensigns  and  swelling 
hills.  The  low  deck  and  quaint  cupola  of  the  famous  Moni- 
tor appeared  close  into  shore,  and  near  at  hand  rose  the 
thick  body  of  the  Galena.  Long  boats  aud  flat  boats  went 
hither  and  thither  across  the  blue  waves :  the  grim  ports  of 
the  men  of  war  were  open  and  the  guns  frowned  darkly 
from  their  coverts  ;  the  seamen  were  gathering  for  muster 
on  the  flagship,  and  drums  beat  from  the  barracks  on  shore  ; 
the  Lincoln  gun,  a  fearful  piece  of  ordnance,  rose  like  the 
Sphynx  from  the  Fortress  sands,  and  the  sodded  parapet, 
the  winding  stone  walls,  the  tops  of  the  brick  quarters 
within  the  Fort,  were  some  of  the  features  of  a  strangely 
animated  scene,  that  has  yet  to  be  perpetuated  upon  can- 
vas, and  made  historic. 

At  eight  o'clock  the  passengers  were  allowed  to  land,  and 
a  provost  guard  marched  them  to  the  Hygeia  House,  —  of 
old  a  watering-place  hotel,  — where,  by  groups,  they  were 
ushered  into  a  small  room,  and  the  oath  of  allegiance  admin- 
istered to  them.  The  young  officer  who  officiated,  repeated 
the  words  of  the  oath,  with  a  broad  grin  upon  his  face,  and 
the  passengers  were  required  to  assent  by  word  and  by 
gesture.  Among  those  who  took  the  oath  in  this  way,  was 
a  very  old  sailor,  who  had  been  in  the  Federal  service  for 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  65 

the  better  part  of  his  life,  and  whose  five  sons  were  now  in 
the  army.  He  called  "  Amen  "  very  loudly  and  fervently, 
and  there  was  some  perceptible  disposition  on  the  part  of 
other  ardent  patriots,  to  celebrate  the  occasion  with  three 
cheers.  The  quartermaster,  stationed  at  the  Fortress  gave 
me  a  pass  to  go  by  steamer  up  the  York  to  White  House, 
and  as  there  were  three  hours  to  elapse  before  departure, 
I  strolled  about  the  place  with  our  agent.  In  times  of 
peace,  Old  Point  was  simply  a  stone  fortification,  and  one 
of  the  strongest  of  its  kind  in  the  world.  Many  years  and 
many  millions  of  dollars  were  required  to  build  it,  but  it  was, 
in  general,  feebly  garrisoned,  and  was,  altogether,  a  stupid, 
tedious  locality,  except  in  the  bathing  months,  when  the 
beauty  and  fashion  of  Virginia  resorted  to  its  hotel.  A  few 
cottages  had  grown  up  around  it,  tenanted  only  in  "the 
season  ;  "  and  a  little  way  off,  on  the  mainland,  stood  the 
pretty  village  of  Hampton. 

By  a  strange  oversight,  the  South  failed  to  seize  Fortress 
Monroe  at  the  beginning  of  the  Rebellion ;  the  Federals 
soon  made  it  the  basis  for  their  armies  and  a  leading  naval 
station.  The  battle  of  Big  Bethel  was  one  of  the  first  oc- 
currences in  the  vicinity.  Then  the  dwellings  of  Hampton 
were  burned  and  its  people  exiled.  In  rapid  succession  fol- 
lowed the  naval  battles  in  the  Roads,  the  siege  and  surren- 
der of  Yorktown,  the  flight  of  the  Confederates  up  the 
Peninsula  to  Richmond,  and  finally  the  battles  of  Williams- 
burg,  and  West  Point,  and  the  capture  of  Norfolk.  These 
things  had  already  transpired ;  it  was  now  the  month  of 
May  ;  and  the  victorious  army,  following  up  its  vantages, 
had  pursued  the  fugitives  by  land  and  water  to  "  White 
House,"  at  the  head  of  navigation  on  the  Pamunkey  river. 
Thither  it  was  my  lot  to  go,  and  witness  the  turning-point 
of  their  fortunes,  and  their  subsequent  calamity  and  repulse. 

I  found  Old  Point  a  weary  place  of  resort,  even  in  the 
busy  era  of  civil  war.  The  bar  at  the  Hygeia  House  was 
6* 


6G  *  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NOX-COMBATANT. 

beset  with  thirsty  and  idle  people,  who  swore  instinctively, 
and  drank  raw  spirits  passionately.  The  quantity  of  shell, 
ball,  ordnance,  camp  equipage,  and  war  munitions  of  every 
description  piled  around  the  fort,  was  marvellously  great. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  Xerxes,  the  first  Napoleon,  or  the 
greediest  of  conquerors,  ancient  or  modern,  would  have  beheld 
with  amazement  the  gigantic  preparations  at  command  of 
the  Federal  Government.  Energy  and  enterprise  displayed 
their  implements  of  death  on  every  hand.  One  was  startled 
at  the  prodigal  outlay  of  means,  and  the  reckless  summon- 
ing of  men.  I  looked  at  the  starred  and  striped  ensign 
that  flaunted  above  the  Fort;  and  thought  of  Madame 
Koland's  appeal  to  the  statue  by  the  guillotine. 

The  settlers  were  numbered  by  regiments  here.  Their 
places  of  business  were  mainly  structures  or  "  shanties  "  of 
rough  plank,  and  most  of  them  were  the  owners  of  sloops, 
or  schooners,  for  the  transportation  of  freight  from  New 
York,  Philadelphia,  or  Baltimore,  to  their  depots  at  Old 
Point.  Some  possessed  a  dozen  wagons,  that  plied  regu- 
larly between  these  stores  and  camps.  The  traffic  was  not 
confined  to  men  ;  for  women  and  children  kept  pace  with 
the  army,  trading  in  every  possible  article  of  necessity  or 
luxury.  For  these —  disciples  of  the  dime  and  the  dollar — 
war  had  no  terrors.  They  took  their  muck-rakes,  like  the 
man  in  Bunyan,  and  gathered  the  almighty  coppers,  from 
the  pestilential  camp  and  the  reeking  battle-field. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ON  TO  RICHMOND. 

YORKTOWN  lies  twenty-one  miles  northwestward  from  Old 
Point,  and  thither  I  turned  my  face  at  noon,  resolving  to 
delay  my  journey  to  "  White  House,"  till  next  day  morn- 
ing. Crossing  an  estuary  of  the  bay  upon  a  narrow  cause- 
way, I  passed  Hampton,  —  half  burned,  half  desolate,  —  and 
at  three  o'clock  came  to  "  Big  Bethel,"  the  scene  of  the 
battle  of  June  11,  1861.  A  small  earthwork  marks  the 
site  of  Magruder's  field-pieces,  and  hard  by  the  slain 
were  buried.  The  spot  was  noteworthy  to  me,  since  Lieu- 
tenant Greble,  a  fellow  alumnus,  had  perished  here,  and 
likewise,  Theodore  Winthrop,  the  gifted  author  of  "  Cecil 
Dreeme"  and  "John  Brent."  The  latter  did  not  live  to 
know  his  exaltation.  That  morning  never  came  whereon 
he  "  woke,  and  found  himself  famous." 

The  road  ran  parallel  with  the  deserted  defences  of  the 
Confederates  for  some  distance.  The  country  was  flat  and 
full  of  swamps,  but  marked  at  intervals  by  relics  of  camps. 
The  farm-houses  were  untenanted,  the  fences  laid  flat  or 
destroyed,  the  fields  strewn  with  discarded  clothing,  arms, 
and  utensils.  By  and  by,  we  entered  the  outer  line  of  Fed- 
eral parallels,  and  wound  among  lunettes,  cremailleres,  re- 
doubts, and  rifle-pits.  Marks  of  shell  and  ball  were  fre- 
quent, in  furrows  and  holes,  where  the  clay  had  been  up- 
heaved. Every  foot  of  ground,  for  fifteen  miles  hencefor- 
ward, had  been  touched  by  the  shovel  and  the  pick.  My 

(67) 


68  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

companion  suggested  that  as  much  digging,  concentred 
upon  one  point,  would  have  taken  the  Federals  to  China. 
The  sappers  and  miners  had  made  their  stealthy  trenches, 
rod  by  rod,  each  morning  appearing  closer  to  their  adversa- 
ries, and  finally,  completed  their  work,  at  less  than  a  hun- 
dred yards  from  the  Confederate  defences.  Three  minutes 
would  have  sufficed  from  the  final  position,  to  hurl  columns 
upon  the  opposing  outworks,  and  sweep  them  with  the  bay- 
onet. Ten  days  only  had  elapsed  since  the  evacuation  (May 
4),  and  the  siege  guns  still  remained  in  some  of  the  bat- 
teries. McClellan  worshipped  great  ordnance,  and  some 
of  his  cdlumbiads,  that  were  mounted  in  the  water  battery, 
yawned  cavernously  through  jtheir  embrasures,  and  might 
have  furnished  sleeping  accommodations  to  the  gunners. 
A  few  mortars  stood  in  position, by  the  river  side,  and  there 
were  Parrott,  Griffin,  and  Dahlgren  pieces  in  the  shore  bat- 
teries. 

However  numerous  and  powerful  were  the  Federal  fortifi- 
cations, they  bore  no  comparison,  in  either  respect,  to  those 
relinquished  by  the  revolutionists.  Miniature  mountain 
ranges  they  seemed,  deeply  ditched,  and  revetted  with  sods, 
fascines,  hurdles,  gabions  or  sand  bags.  Along  the  York 
riverside  there  were  water  batteries  of  surpassing  beauty,  that 
seemed,  at  a  little  distance,  successions  of  gentle  terraces. 
Their  pieces  were  likewise  of  enormous  calibre,  and  their 
number  almost  incredible.  The  advanced  line  of  fortifica- 
tions, sketched  from  the  mouth  of  Warwick  creek,  on  the 
South,  to  a  point  fifteen  miles  distant  on  the  York  :  one  hun- 
dred and  forty  guns  were  planted  along  this  chain  of  de- 
fences ;  but  there  were  two  other  concentric  lines,  mounting, 
each,  one  hundred  and  twenty,  and  two  hundred  and  forty 
guns.  The  remote  series  consisted  of  six  forts  of  massive 
size  and  height,  fronted  by  swamps  and  flooded  meadows, 
with  frequent  creeks  and  ravines  interposing  ;  sharp  f raise 
and  abattis  planted  against  scarp  and  slope,  pointed  cruelly 
eastward.  There  were  two  water  batteries,  of  six  and  four 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A  NON-COMBATANT.  69 

thirty-two  columbiads  respectively,  and  the  town  itself, 
which  stands  upon  a  red  clay  bluff',  was  encircled  by  a  series 
of  immense  rifled  and  smooth-bore  pieces,  including  a  pow- 
erful pivot-gun,  that  one  of  McClellan's  shells  struck  during 
the  first  day's  bombardment,  and  split  it  into  fragments. 
At  Gloucester  Point,  across  the  York  river,  the  great  guns 
of  the  Merrimac  were  planted,  it  is  said,  and  a  fleet  of  fire- 
rafts  and  torpedo-ships  were  moored  in  the  stream.  By  all 
accounts,  there  could  have  been  no  less  than  five  hundred 
guns  behind  the  Confederate  entrenchments,  the  greater 
portion,  of  course,  field-pieces,  and,  as  the  defending  army 
was  composed  of  one  hundred  thousand  men,  -we  must  add 
that  number  of  small  arms  to  the  list  of  ordnance.  If  we 
compute  the  Federals  at  so  high  a  figure,  —  and  they  could 
scarcely  have  had  less  than  a  hundred  thousand  men  afield, 
—  we  must  increase  the  enormous  amount  of  their  field, 
siege,  and  small  ordnance,  by  the  naval  guns  of  the  fleet, 
that  stood  anchored  in  the  bay.  It  is  probable  that  a  thou- 
sand cannon  and  two  hundred  thousand  muskets  were  as- 
sembled in  and  around  Yorktown  during  this  memorable 
siege.  The  mind  shudders  to  see  the  terrible  deductions  of 
these  statistics.  The  monster,  who  wished  that  the  world 
had  but  one  neck,  that  he  might  sever  it,  would  have  gloated 
at  such  realization  !  How  many  days  or  hours  would  have 
here  sufficed  to  annihilate  all  the  races  of  men  ?  Happily, 
the  world  was  spared  the  spectacle  of  these  deadly  mouths 
at  once  aflame.  Beautiful  but  awful  must  have  been  the 
scene,  and  the  earth  must  have  staggered  with  the  shock. 
One  might  almost  have  imagined  that  man,  in  his  ambition, 
had  shut  his  God  in  heaven,  and  besieged  him  there. 

While  the  fortifications  defending  it  amazed  me,  the  vil- 
lage of  Yorktown  disappointed  me.  I  marvelled  that  so 
paltry  a  settlement  should  have  been  twice  made  historic. 
Here,  in  the  year  1783,  Lord  Cornwallis  surrendered  his 
starving  command  to  the  American  colonists  and  their  French 
allies.  But  the  entrenchments  of  that  earlier  day  had  been 


70  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NOS-COMBATAXT. 

almost  obliterated  by  these  recent  labors.  The  field,  where 
the  Earl  delivered  up  his  sword,  was  trodden  bare,  and  dot- 
ted with  ditches  and  ramparts  ;  while  a  small  monument, 
that  marked  the  event,  had  been  hacked  to  fragments  by  the 
Southerners,  and  carried  away  piecemeal.  Yet,  strange  to 
say,  relics  of  the  first  bombardment  had  just  been  discov- 
ered, and,  among  them,  a  gold-hilted  sword. 

I  visited,  in  the  evening,  the  late  quarters  of  General 
Hill,  a  small  white  house  with  green  shutters,  and  also  the 
famous  "Nelson  House,"  a  roomy  mansion  where,  of  old, 
Cornwallis  slept,  and  where,  a  few  days  past,  Jefferson 
Davis  and  General  Lee  had  held  with  Magruder,  and  his  as- 
sociates, a  council  of  war.  It  had  been  also  used  for  hospi- 
tal purposes,  but  some  negroes  were  now  the  only  occu- 
pants. 

The  Confederates  left  behind  them  seventy  spiked  and 
shattered  cannon,  some  powder,  and  a  lew  splintered 
wagons  ;  but  in  all  material  respects,  their  evacuation  was 
thorough  and  creditable.  Some  deserters  took  the  first 
tidings  of  the  retreat  to  the  astonished  Federals,  and  they 
raised  the  national  flag  within  the  fortifications,  in  the  gray 
of  the  morning  of  the  4th  of  May.  Many  negroes  also  es- 
caped the  vigilance  of  their  taskmasters,  and  remained  to 
welcome  the  victors.  The  fine  works  of  Yorktown  are 
monuments  to  negro  labor,  for  they  were  the  hewers  and  the 
diggers.  Every  slave-owner  in  Eastern  Virginia  was  obliged 
to  send  one  half  of  his  male  servants  between  the  ages  of 
sixteen  and  fifty  to  the  Confederate  camps,  and  they  were 
organized  into  gangs  and  set  to  work.  In  some  cases  they 
were  put  to  military  service  and  .made  excellent  sharp- 
shooters. The  last  gun  discharged  from  the  town  was  said 
to  have  been  fired  by  a  negro. 

I  slept  on  board  a  barge  at  the  wharf  that  evening,  and  my 
dreams  ran  upon  a  thousand  themes-.  To  every  American  this 
was  hallowed  ground.  It  had  been  celebrated  by  the  pencil 
of  Trumbull,  the  pen  of  Franklin,  and  the  eloquence  of  Jef- 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  71 

ferson.  Scarce  eighty  years  had  elapsed  since  those  great 
minds  established  a  fraternal  government ;"  but  the  site  of 
their  crowning  glory  was  now  the  scene  of  their  children's 
shame.  Discord  had  stolen  upon  their  councils  and  blood 
had  profaned  their  shrine. 

I  visited  next  day  a  bomb-proof  postern,  or  subterranean 
passage,  connecting  the  citadel  with  the  outworks,  and 
loitered  about  the  fortifications  till  noon,  when  I  took  pas- 
sage on  the  mail  steamer,  which  left  the  Fortress  at  eleven 
o'clock,  and  reached  White  House  at  dusk  the  same  evening. 
The  whole  river  as  I  ascended  was  filled  with  merchant  and 
naval  craft.  They  made  a  continuous  line  from  Old  Point  to 
the  mouth  of  York  River,  and  the  masts  and  spars  environ- 
ing Yorktown  and  Gloucester,  reminded  one  of  a  scene  on 
the  Mersey  or  the  Clyde.  At  West  Point,  there  was  an 
array  of  shipping  scarcely  less  formidable,  and  the  windings 
of  the  interminably  crooked  Pamunkey  were  marked  for 
leagues  by  sails,  smoke-stacks,  and  masts.  The  landings  and 
wharves  were  besieged  by  flat-boats  and  sloops,  and  Zouaves 
were  hoisting  forage  and  commissary  stores  up  the  red 
bluffs  at  every  turn  of  our  vessel. 

The  Pamunkey  was  a  beautiful  stream,  densely  wooded, 
and  occasional  vistas  opened  up  along  its  borders  of  wheat- 
fields  and  meadows,  with  Virginia  farm-houses  and  negro 
quarters  on  the  hilltops.  Some  of  the  houses  on  the  river 
banks  appeared  to  be  tenanted  by  white  people,  but  the  ma- 
jority had  a  haunted,  desolate  appearance,  the  only  signs 
of  life  being  strolling  soldiers,  who  thrust  their  legs  through 
the  second  story  windows,  or  contemplated  the  river  from 
the  chimney-tops,  and  groups  of  negroes  who  sunned  them- 
selves on  the  piazza,  or  rushed  to  the  margin  to  gaze  and 
grin  at  the  passing  steamers.  There  were  occasional  resi- 
dences not  unworthy  of  old  manorial  and  baronial  times, 
and  these  were  attended  at  a  little  distance  by  negro  quar- 
ters of  logs,  arranged  in  rows,  and  provided  with  mud 
chimneys  built  against  their  gables.  Few  of  the  Northern 
navigable  rivers  were  so  picturesque  and  varied. 


72  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

We  passed  two  Confederate  gunboats,  that  had  been  half 
completed,  and  burned  on  the  stocks.  Their  charred  elbows 
and  ribs,  stared  out,  like  the  remains  of  some  extinct  mon- 
sters ;  a  little  delay  might  have  found  each  of  them  armed 
and  manned,  and  carrying  havoc  upon  the  rivers  and  the 
seas.  West  Point  was  simply  a  tongue,  or  spit  of  land, 
dividing  the  Mattapony  from  the  Pamunkey  river  at  their 
junction  ;  a  few  houses  were  built  upon  the  shallow,  and 
some  wharves,  half  demolished,  marked  the  terminus  of  the 
York  and  Richmond  railroad.  A  paltry  water-battery  was 
the  sole  defence.  Below  Cumberland  (a  collection  of  huts 
and  a  wharf),  a  number  of  schooners  had  been  sunk  across 
the  river,  and,  with  the  aid  of  an  island  in  the  middle,  these 
constituted  a  rather  rigid  blockade.  The  steamboat  passed 
through,  steering  carefully,  but  some  sailing  vessels  that 
followed  required  to  be  towed  between  the  narrow  aper- 
tures. The  tops  only  of  the  sunken  masts  could  be  dis- 
cerned above  the  surface,  and  much  time  and  labor  must 
have  been  required  to  place  the  boats  in  line  and  sink 
them.  Vessels  were  counted  by  scores  above  and  below 
this  blockade,  and  at  Cumberland  the  masts  were  like  a 
forest ;  clusters  of  pontoons  were  here  anchored  in  the  river, 
and  a  short  distance  below  we  found  three  of  the  light- 
draught  Federal  gunboats  moored  in  the  stream.  It  was 
growing  dark  as  we  rounded  to  at  "  White  House  ;  "  the 
camp  fires  of  the  grand  army  lit  up  the  sky,  and  edged  the 
tree-boughs  on  the  margin  with  ribands  of  silver.  Some 
drums  beat  in  the  distance  ;  sentries  paced  the  strand  ;  the 
hum  of  men,  and  the  lowing  of  commissary  cattle,  were 
borne  towards  us  confusedly  ;  soldiers  were  bathing  in  the 
river ;  team-horses  were  drinking  at  the  brink  ;  a  throng  of 
motley  people  were  crowding  about  the  landing  to  receive 
the  papers  and  mails.  I  had  at  last  arrived  at  the  seat  of 
war,  and  my  ambition  to  chronicle  battles  and  bloodshed 
was  about  to  be  gratified. 

At  first,  I  was  troubled  to  make  my  way  ;  the  tents  had 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COM L'.ATANT.  73 

just  been  pitched  ;  »one  knew  the  location  of  divisions 
other  than  their  own,  and  it  was  now  so  dark  that  I  did 
not  care  to  venture  far.  After  a  vain  attempt  to  find  some 
ilat-boats  where  there  were  lodgings  and  meals  to  be  had,  I 
struck  out  for  general  head-quarters,  and,  undergoing  re- 
peated snubbings  from  pert  members  of  staff,  fell  in  at 
length,  with  a  very  tall,  spare,  and  angular  young  officer, 
who  spoke  broken  English,  and  who  heard  my  inquiries, 
courteously ;  he  stepped  into  General  Marcy's  tent,  but 
the  Chief  of  Staff  did  not  know  the  direction  of  Smith's 
division  ;  he  then  repaired  to  Gen.  Van  Vleet,  the  chief 
Quartermaster,  but  with  ill  success.  A  party  of  officers 
were  smoking  under  a  "  fly,"  and  some  of  these  called  to 
him,  thus  — 

"  Captain  !    Duke  !    De  Chartres  !     What  do  you  wish  ? 

It  was,  then,  the  Orleans  Prince  who  had  befriended  me, 
and  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  hear  that  the  division,  of  which 
I  was  in  search,  lay  a  half  mile  up  the  river.  I  never  spoke 
to  the  Bourbon  afterward,  but  saw  him  often ;  and  that  he 
was  as  chivalrous  as  he  was  kind,  all  testimony  proved. 

A  private  escorted  me  to  a  Captain  Mott's  tent,  and  this 
officer  introduced  me  to  General  Hancock.  I  was  at  once 
invited  to  mess  with  the  General's  staff,  and  in  the  coiu-se 
of  an  hour  felt  perfectly  at  home.  Hancock  was  one  of  the 
handsomest  officers .  in  the  army  ;  he  had  served  in  the 
Mexican  war,  and  was  subsequently  a  Captain  in  the  Quar- 
termaster's department.  But  the  Rebellion  placed  stars  in 
many  shoulder-bars,  and  few  were  more  worthily  designated 
than  this  young  Pennsylvanian.  His  first  laurels  were 
gained  at  Williamsburg ;  but  the  story  of  a  celebrated 
charge  that  won  him  the  day's  applause,  and  McClellan's 
encomium  of  the  "  Superb  Hancock,"  was  altogether  ficti- 
tious. The  musket,  not  the  bayonet,  gave  him  the  victory. 
I  may  doubt,  in  this  place,  that  any  extensive  bayonet 
charge  has  been  known  during  the  war.  Some  have  gone 
so  far  as  to  deny  that  the  bayonet  has  ever  been  used  at  all. 
7 


74  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

Hancock's  regiments  were  the  5th- Wisconsin,  49th  Penn- 
eylvanian,  43d  New  York,  and  6th  Maine.  They  repre- 
sented widely  different  characteristics,  and  I  esteemed  my- 
self fortunate  to  obtain  a  position  where -I  could  so  eligibly 
study  men,  habits,  and  warfare.  During  the  evening  I  fell 
in  with  the  Colonel  of  each  of  these  regiments,  and  from  the 
conversation  that  ensued,  I  gleaned  a  fair  idea  of  them 
all. 

The  Wisconsin  regiment  was  from  a  new  and  ambitious 
State  of  the  Northwest.  The  men  were  rough-mannered, 
great-hearted  farmers,  wood-choppers,  and  tradesmen.  They 
had  all  the  impulsiveness  of  the  Yankee,  with  less  selfish- 
ness, and  quite  as  much  bravery.  The  Colonel  was  named 
Cobb,  and  he  had  held  some  leading  offices  in  Wisconsin. 
A  part  of  his  life  had  been  adventurously  spent,  and  he  had 
participated  in  the  Mexican  war.  He  was  an  ardent 
Republican  in  politics,  and  had  been  Speaker  of  a  branch  of 
the  State  Legislature.  He  was  an  attorney  in  a  small 
county  town  when  the  war  commenced,  and  his  name  had 
been  broached  for  the  Governorship.  In  person  he  was 
small,  lithe,  and  capable  of  enduring  great  fatigue.  His 
hair  was  a  little  gray,  and  he  ha'd  no  beard.  He  did  not 
respect  appearances,  and  his  sword,  as  I  saw,  was  antique 
and  quite  different  in  shape  from  the  regulation  weapon. 
He  had  penetrating  gray  eyes,  and  his  manners  were  generally 
reserved.  One  had  not  to  regard  him  twice  ta  see  that  he 
was  both  cautious  and  resolute.  He  was  too  ambitious  to 
be  frank,  and  too  passionate  not  to  be  brave.  In  the  for- 
mula of  learning  he  was  not  always  correct;  but  few  were 
of  quicker  perception  or  more  practical  and  philosophic. 
He  might  not,  in  an  emergency,  be  nicely  scrupulous  as  to 
means,  but  he  never  wavered  in  respect  to  objects.  His 
will  was  the  written  law  to  his  regiment,  and  I  believed  his 
executive  abilities  superior  to  those  of  any  officer  in  the 
brigade,  not  excepting  the  General's. 

The  New  York  regiment  was  commanded  by  a  young 
officer  named  Vinton.     Ho  was  not  more  than  thirty-five 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  75 

years  of  age,  and  was  a  graduate  of  the  United  States 
Military  Academy.  Passionately  devoted  to  engineering, 
he  withdrew  from  the  army,  and  passed  five  years  in  Paris, 
at  the  study  of  his  art.  Returning  homeward  by  way  of 
the  West  Indies,  he  visited  Honduras,  and  projected  a  fili- 
bustering expedition  to  its  shores  from  the  States.  While 
perfecting  the  design,  the  Rebellion  commenced,  and  his 
old  patron,  General  Scott,  secured  him  the  colonelcy  of  a 
volunteer  regiment.  He  still  cherished  his  scheme  of  "  Col- 
onization," and  half  of  his  men  were  promised  to  accompany 
him.  Personally,  Colonel  Vinton  was  straight,  dark,  and 
handsome.  He  was  courteous,  affable,  and  brave, — but 
wedded  to  his  peculiar  views,  and,  as  I  thought,  a  thorough 
"  Young  American." 

The  Maine  regiment  was  fathered  by  Colonel  Burnham, 
a  staunch  old  yeoman  and  soldier,  who  has  since  been  made 
a  General.  His  probity  and  good-nature  were  adjuncts  of 
his  valor,  and  his  men  were  of  the  better  class  of  New  Eng- 
landers.  The  fourth  regiment  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  lawyer 
from  Lewistown,  Pennsylvania.  He  had  been  also  in  the 
Mexican  war,  and  was  remarkable  mainly  for  strictness  with 
regard  to  the  sanitary  regulations  of  his  camps.  He  had 
wells  dug  at  every  stoppage,  and  his  tents  were  generally 
fenced  and  canopied  with  cedar  arbors.  General  Hancock's 
staff  was  composed  of  a  number  of  young  men,,  most  of 
whom  had  been  called  from  civil  life.  -His  brigade  consti- 
tuted one  of  three  commanded  by  General  Smith.  Four 
batteries  were  annexed  to  the  division  so  formed  ;  the  entire 
number  of  muskets  was  perhaps  eight  thousand.  The  Chief 
of  Artillery  was  a  Captain  Ayres,  whose  battery  saved  the 
three  months'  army  at  Bull  Run.  It  so  happened  that  he 
came  into  the  General's  during  the  evening,  and  recited  the 
particulars  of  a  gunboat  excursion,  thirty  miles  up  the 
Pamunkey,  wherein  he  had  landed  his  men,  and  burned  a 
quantity  of  grain,  some  warehouses,  and  shipping.  I  pen- 
cilled the  facts  at  once>  made  up  my  letter,  and  mailed  it 
early  in  the  morning. 


CHAPTER  VHI. 

RUSTICS    IN    REBELLION. 

AT  White  House,  I  met  some  of  the  mixed  Indians  and 
negroes  from  Indiantown  Island,  which  lies  among  the  osiers 
in  the  stream.  One  of  these  ferried  me  over,  and  the  people 
received  me  obsequiously,  touching  their  straw  hats,  and 
saying,  "  Sar,  at  your  service  !  "  They  were  all  anxious  to 
hear  something  of  the  war,  and  asked,  solicitously,  if  they 
were  to  be  protected.  Some  of  them  had  been  to  Richmond 
the  previous  day,  and  gave  me  some  unimportant  items 
happening  in  the  city.  I  found  that  they  had  Richmond 
papers  of  that  date,  and  purchased  them  for  a  few  cents. 
They  knew  little  or  nothing  of  their  own  history,  and  had 
preserved  no  traditions  of  their  tribe.  There  was,  however, 
I  understood,  a  very  old  woman  extant,  named  "Mag,"  of 
great  repute  at  medicines,  pow-wows,  and  divination.  I 
expressed  a  desire  to  speak  with  her,  and  was  conducted  to 
a  log-house,  more  ricketty  and  ruined  than  any  of  the 
others.  About  fifty  half-breeds  followed  me  in  respectful 
curiosity,  and  they  formed  a  semicircle  around  the  cabin. 
The  old  woman  sat  in  the  threshold,  barefooted,  and  smoking 
a  stump  of  clay  pipe. 

"Yaw's  one  o'  dem  Nawden  soldiers,  Aunt  Mag  !  "  said 
my  conductor.  "  He  wants  to  talk  wid  ye." 

"  Sot  down,  honey,"  said  the  old  woman,  producing  a 
wooden  stool ;  "is  you  a  Yankee,  honey  ?  Does  you  want 
you  fauchun  told  by  de  ole  'oman  ?  " 

(76) 


CAMPAIGNS   OF  A   NON-COMBATANT.  77 

I  perceived  that  the  daughter  of  the  Delawares  smelt 
strongly  of  fire-water,  and  the  fumes  of  her  calumet  were 
most  unwholesome.  She  was  greatly  disappointed  that  I 
did  not  require  her  prophetic  services,  and  said,  appeal- 
ingly  — 

"  Why,  sar,  all  de  gen'elmen  an'  ladies  from  Richmond 
has  dere  fauchuns  told.  I  tells  'em  true.  All  my  fauchuns 
comes  out  true.  Ain't  dat  so,  chillen  ?  " 

A  low  murmur  of  assent  ran  round  the  group,  and  I  was 
obviously  losing  caste  in  the  settlement. 

"Here  is  a  dime,"  said  I,  "that  I  will  give  you,  to  tell 
me  the  result  of  the  war.  Shall  the  North  be  victorious  in 
the  next  battle  ?  Will  Richmond  surrender  within  a  week  ? 
Shall  I  take  my  cigar  at  the  Spotswood  on  Sunday  fort- 
night ?  " 

"  I'se  been  a  lookin'  into  dat,"  she  said,  cunningly; 
"  I'se  had  dreams  on  dat  ar'.  Le'urn  see  how  de  armies 
stand !  " 

She  brought  from  the  house  a  cup  of  painted  earthen- 
ware containing  sediments  of  coffee.  I  saw  her  crafty 
white  eyes  look  up  to  mine  as  she  muttered  some  jargon, 
and  pretended  to  read  the  arrangement  of  the  grains. 

"Honey,"  she  said,  "  gi'  me  de  money,  and  let  de  ole 
'oman  dream  on  it  once  mo'  !  It  ain't  quite  clar'  yit,  young 
massar.  Tank  you,  honey  !  Tank  you  !  Let  de  old  'oman 
dream  !  Let  de  ole  'oman  dream !  " 

She  disappeared  into  the  house,  chuckling  and  chattering, 
and  the  sons  of  the  forest,  loitering  awhile,  dispersed  in  va- 
rious directions.  As  I  followed  my  conductor  to  the  river- 
side, and  he  parted  the  close  bushes  and  boughs  to  give  us 
exit,  the  glare  of  the  camp-fires  broke  all  at  once  upon  us. 
The  ship-lights  quivered  on  the  water ;  the  figures  of  men 
moved  to  and  fro  before  the  fagots ;  the  stars  peeped  tim- 
orously from  the  vault ;  the  woods  and  steep  banks  were 
blackly  shadowed  in  the  river.  Here  was  I,  among  the 
aborigines  ;  and  as  my  dusky  acquaintance  sent  his  canoe 


78  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT. 

skimming  across  the  ripples,  I  thought  how  inexplicable 
were  the  decrees  of  Time  and  the  justice  of  God.  Two 
races  united  in  these  people,  and  both  of  them  we  had 
wronged.  From  the  one  we  had  taken  lands;  from  the 
other  liberties.  Two  centurie^  had  now  glapsed.  But  the 
little  remnant  of  the  African  and  the  American  were  to  look 
from  their  Island  Home  upon  the  clash  of  our  armies  and 
the  murder  of  our  braves. 

By  the  19th  of  May  the  skirts  of  the  grand  army  had 
been  gathered  up,  and  on  the  20th  the  march  to  Richmond 
was  resumed.  The  troops  moved  along  two  main  roads,  of 
which  the  right  led  to  New  Mechanicsville  and  Meadow 
Bridges,  and  the  left  to  the  railroad  and  Bottom  Bridges. 
My  division  formed  the  right  centre,  and  although  the 
Chickahominy  fords  were  but  eighteen  miles  distant,  we 
did  not  reach  them  for  three  days.  On  the  first  night  we 
encamped  at  Tunstall's,  a  railroad-station  on  Black  Creek ; 
on  the  second  at  New  Cold  Harbor,  a  little  country  tavern, 
kept  by  a  cripple  ;  and  on  the  night  of  the  third  day  at 
Hogan's  farm,  on  the  north  hills  of  the  Chickahominy.  The 
railroad  was  opened  tc  Despatch  Station  at  the  same  time, 
but  the  right  and  centre  were  still  compelled  to  "team" 
their  supplies  from  White  House.  In  the  new  position,  the 
army  extended  ten  miles  along  the  Chickahominy  hills  ;  and 
while  the  engineers  were  driving  pile,  tresscl,  pontoon,  and 
corduroy  bridges,  the  cavalry  was  scouring  the  country,  ou 
both  flanks,  far  and  wide. 

The  advance  was  full  of  incident,  and  I  learned  to  keep  as 
far  in  front  as  possible,  that  I  might  communicate  with 
scouts,  contrabands,  and  citizens.  Many  odd  personages 
were  revealed  to  me  at  the  farm-houses  on  the  way,  and  I 
studied,  with  curious  interest,  the  native  Virginian  charac- 
ter. They  appeared  to  be  compounds  of  the  cavalier  and 
the  boor.  There  was  no  old  gentleman  who  owned  a  thou- 
sand barren  acres,  spotted  with  scrub  timber  ;  who  lived  in 
a  weather-beaten  barn,  with  a  multiplicity  of  porch  and  a 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  79 

quantity  of  chimney ;  whose  means  bore  no  proportion  to 
his  pride,  and  neither  to  his  indolence, — that  did  not  talk 
of  his  ancestry,  proffer  his  hospitality,  and  defy  me  to  an 
argument.  I  was  a  civilian,  -^they  had  no  hostility  to  me, 
— -but  the  blue-coats  of  the  soldiers  seared  their  eyeballs. 
In  some  cases  their  daughters  remained  upon  the  property ; 
but  the  sons  and  the  negroes  always  fled,  —  though  in  con- 
trary directions.  The  old  men  used  to  peep  through  the 
windows  at  the  passing  columns ;  and  as  their  gates  were 
wrenched  from  the  hinges,  their  rails  used  to  pry  wagons 
out  of  the  mud,  their  pump-handles  shaken  till  the  buckets 
splintered  in  the  shaft,  and  their  barns  invaded  by  greasy 
agrarians,  they  walked  to  and  fro,  half-weakly,  half-wrath- 
fully,  b;;L  with  a  pluck,  fortitude,  and  devotion  that  wrung 
my  respact.  Some  aged  negro  women  commonly  remained, 
but  these  were  rather  incumbrances  than  aids,  arid  they 
used  the  family  meal  to  cook  bread  for  the  troops.  An  old, 
toothless,  grinning  African  stood  at  every  lane  and  gate, 
selling  buttermilk  and  corn-cakes.  Poor  mortal,  sinful  old 
women  !  They  had  worked  for  nothing  through  their  three- 
score and  ten,  but  avarice  glared  from  their  shrivelled 
pupils,  and  their  last  but  greatest  delight  lay  in  the 
coppers  and  the  dimes.  One  would  have  thought  that  they 
had  outlived  the  greed  of  gold ;  but  wages  deferred  make 
the  dying  miserly. 

The  lords  of  the  manors  were  troubled  to  know  tho 
number  of  our  troops.  For  several  days  the  columns  passed 
with  their  interminable  teams,  batteries,  and  adjuncts,  and 
the  old  gentlemen  were  loth  to  compute  us  at  less  than 
several  millions. 

"  Why,  look  yonder,"  said  one,  pointing  to  a  brigade  ; 
"  I  declar'  to  gracious,  there"  ain't  no  less  than  ten  thousand 
in  them!" 

"  Tousands  an'  tousands  !  "  said  a  wondering  negro  at 
his  elbow.  "I  wonda  if  dey'll  take  Eichmond  dis  yer 
day?" 


80  CAMPAIGNS  'OF    A    NON-COMKATAXT. 

Many  of  them  hung  white  flags  at  their  gate-posts,  imply- 
ing neutrality  ;  but  nobody  displayed  the  Federal  colors.  If 
there  were  any  covert  sympathizers  with  the  purposes  of  the 
army,  they  remembered  the  vengeance  of  the  neighbors  and 
made  no  demonstrations.  There  was  a  prodigious  number 
of  stragglers  from  the  Federal  lines,  as  these  were  the  bane 
of  the  country  people.  They  sauntered  along  by  twos  and 
threes,  rambling  into  all  the  fields  and  green-apple  orchards, 
intruding  their  noses  into  old  cabins,  prying  into  smoke- 
houses, and  cellars,  looking  at  the  stock  in  the  stables,  and 
peeping  on  tiptoe  into  the  windows  of  dwellings.  These 
stragglers  were  true  exponents  of  Yankee  character,  — 
always  wanting  to  know,  —  averse  to  discipline,  eccentric 
in  their  orbits,  entertaining  profound  contempt  for  every- 
thing that  was  not  up  to  the  measure  of  "  to  hum." 

"  Look  here,  Bill,  I  say  !  "  said  one,  with  a  great  grin  on 
his  face  ;  "  did  you  ever,  neow  !  I  swan  !  they  call  that  a 
plough  down  in  these  parts." 

"  Devilishest  people  I  ever  see  !  "  said  Bill,  "  stick  their 
meetin'-houses  square  in  the  woods  !  Build  their  chimneys 
first  and  move  the  houses  up  to  'em  !  All  the  houses 
breakin'  out  in  perspiration  of  porch  !  All  their  machinery 
with  Noah  in  the  ark  !  Pump  the  soil  dry  !  Go  to  sleep  a 
milkin'  a  keow !  Depend  entirely  on  Providence  and  the 
nigger  1 " 

There  was  a  mill  on  the  New  Bridge  road,  ten  miles  from 
White  House,  with  a  tidy  farm-house,  stacks,  and  cabins 
adjoining.  The  road  crossed  the  mill-race  by  a  log  bridge, 
and  a  spreading  pond  or  dam  lay  to  the  left,  —  the  water 
black  as  ink,  the  shore  sandy,  and  the  stream  disappearing 
in  a  grove  of  straight  pines.  A  youngish  woman,  with 
several  small  children,  occupied  the  dwelling,  and  there  re- 
mained, besides,  her  fat  sister-in-law  and  four  or  five  faithful 
negroes.  I  begged  the  favor  of  a  meal  and  bed  in  the  place 
one  night,  and  shall  not  forget  the  hospitable  table  with  its 
steaming  biscuit ;  the  chubby  baby,  perched  upon  his  high 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  81 

stool ;  the  talkative  elderly  woman,  who  took  snuff  at  the 
fireplace  ;  the  contented  black-girl,  who  played  the  Hebe  ; 
and  above  all,  the  trim,  plump,  pretty  hostess,  with  her 
brown  eyes  and  hair,  her  dignity  and  her  fondness,  sitting  at 
the  head  of  the  board.  When  she  poured  the  bright  coffee 
into  the  capacious  bowl,  she  revealed  the  neatest  of  hands 
and  arms,  and  her  dialect  was  softer  and  more  musical  than 
that  of  most  Southerners.  In  short,  I  fell  almost  in  love 
with  her  ;  though  she  might  have  been  a  younger  playmate 
of  my  mother's,  and  though  she  was  the  wife  of  a  Quarter- 
master in  a  Virginia  regiment.  For,  somehow,  a  woman 
seems  very  handsome  when  one  is  afield  ;  and  the  contact 
of  rough  soldiers,  gives  him  a  partiality  for  females.  It 
must  have  required  some  courage  to  remain  upon  the  farm  ; 
but  she  hoped  thereby  to  save  the  property  from  spoliation. 
I  played  a  game  of  whist  with  the  sister-in-law,  arguing  all 
the  while  ;  and  at  nine  o'clock  the  servant  produced  some 
hard  cider,  shellbarks,  and  apples.  We  drank  a  cheery 
toast:  "an  early  peace  and  old  fellowship!" — to  which 
the  wife  added  a  sentiment  of  "always  welcome,"  and  the 
baby  laughed  at  her  knee.  How  brightly  glowed  the  fire  ! 
I  wanted  to  linger  for  a  week,  a  month,  a  year,  —  as  I  do 
now,  thinking  it  all  over,  —  and  when  I  strolled  to  the 
porch,  —  hearing  the  pigeons  cooing  at  the  barn  ;  the  water 
streaming  down  the  dam  ;  the  melancholy  monotony  of  the 
pine  boughs  ;  —  there  only  lacked  the  humming  mill-wheel, 
and  the  strong  grip  of  the  miller's  hand,  to  fill  the  void 
corner  of  one's  happy  heart. 

But  this  was  a  time  of  war,  when  dreams  are  rudely 
broken,  and  mine  could  not  last.  The  next  day  some  great 
wheels  beat  down  the  bridge,  and  the  teams  clogged  the 
road  for  miles  ;  the  waiting  teamsters  saw  the  miller's 
sheep,  and  the  geese,  chickens,  and  pigs,  rashly  exposed 
themselves  in  the  barnyard ;  these  were  killed  and  eaten, 
the  mill  stripped  of  flour  and  meal,  and  the  garden  despoiled 
of  its  vegetables.  A  quartermaster's  horse  foundered,  and 


82  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NOX-COMBATAKT. 

he  demanded  the  miller's,  giving  therefor  a  receipt,  but 
specifying  upon  the  same  the  owner's  relation  to  the  Rebel- 
lion ;  and,  to  crown  all,  a  group  of  stragglers,  butchered  the 
cows,  and  heaped  the  beef  in  their  wagons  to  feed  their 
regimental  friends.  When  I  presented  myself,  late  in  the 
afternoon,  the  yard  and  porches  were  filled  with  soldiers ; 
the  wife  sat  within,  her  head  thrown  upon  the  window,  her 
bright  hair  unbound,  and  her  eyes  red  with  weeping.  The 
baby  had  cried  itself  to  sleep,  the  sister-in-law  took  snuff 
fiercely,  at  the  fire  ;  the  black  girl  cowered  in  a  corner. 

"There  is  not  bread  in  the  house  for  my  children,"  she 
said;  "but  I  did  not  thiuk  they  could  make  me  shed  a 
tear." 

If  there  were  Spartan  women,  as  the  story-books  say,  I 
wonder  if  their  blood  died  with  them !  I  hardly  think 
BO. 

If  I  learned  anything  from  my  quiet  study  of  this  and 
subsequent  campaigns,  it  was  the  heartlessness  of  war. 
War  brutalizes !  The  most  pitiful  become  pitiless  afield, 
and  those  who  are  not  callous,  must  do  cruel  duties.  If 
the  quartermaster  had  not  seized  the  horses,  he  would  have 
been  accountable  for  his  conduct ;  had  he  failed  to  state 
the  miller's  disloyalty  in  the  receipt,  he  would  have  been 
punished.  The  men  were  thieves  and  brutes,  to  take  the 
meal  and  meat ;  but  they  were  perhaps  hungry  and  weary, 
and  sick  of  camp  food  ;  on  the  whole,  I  became  a  devotee  of 
the  G-eorge  Pox  faith,  and  hated  warfare,  though  I  knew 
nothing  to  substitute  for  it,  in  crises. 

Besides,  the  optimist  might  have  seen  much  to  admire. 
Individual  merits  were  developed  around  me ;  I  saw  shop- 
keepers and  mechanics  in  the  ranks,  and  they  looked  to  be 
better  men.  Here  were  triumphs  of  engineering;  there 
perfections  of  applied  ingenuity.  I  saw  how  the  weakest 
natures  girt  themselves  for  great  resolves,  and  how  forti- 
tude outstripped  itself.  It  is  a  noble  thing  to  put  by  the 
fear  of  death.  It  was  a  grand  spectacle,  this  civil  soldiery  of 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  83 

both  sections,  supporting  their  principles,  ambitions,  or 
•whatever  instigated  them,  with  their  bodies ;  and  their 
bones,  lie  where  they  will,  must  be  severed,  when  the  plough- 
share some  day  heaves  them  to  the  ploughman. 

One  morning  a  friend  asked  me  to  go  upon  a  scout. 

"  Where  are  your  companies  ? "  said  I. 

"  There  are  four  behind,  and  we  shall  be  joined  by  six  at 
Old  Cold  Harbor." 

I  saw,  in  the  rear,  filing  through  a  belt  of  woods,  the 
tall  figures  of  the  horsemen,  approaching  at  a  canter. 

"  Do  you  command  ?  "  said  I  again. 

"  No  !  the  Major  has  charge  of  the  scout,  and  his  orders 
are  secret." 

I  wheeled  beside  him.  as  the  cavalry  closed  up,  waved  my 
hand  to  Plumley,  and  the  girls,  and  went  forward  to  the  ren- 
dezvous, about  six  miles  distant.  The  remaining  companies 
of  the  regiment  were  here  drawn  up,  watering  their  na"gs. 
The  Major  was  a  thick,  sunburnt  man,  with  grizzled  beard, 
and  as  he  saw  us  rounding  a  corner  of  hilly  road,  his  voice 
rang  out — 

"Attention!     Prepare  to  mount !  " 

Every  rider  sprang  to  his  nag ;  every  nag  walked  instinc- 
tively to  his  place ;  every  horseman  made  fast  his  girths, 
strapped  his  blankets  tightly,  and  lay  his  hands  upon  bridle- 
rein  and  pommel. 

"Attention!     Mount!" 

The  riders  sprang  to  their  seats  ;  the  bugles  blew  a  lively 
strain  ;  the  horses  pricked  up  their  ears  ;  and  the  long  array  • 
moved  briskly  forward,  with  the  Captain,  the  Major,  and 
myself  at  the  head.  We  were  joined  in  a  moment  by  two 
pieces  of  flying  artillery,  and  five  fresh  companies  of  caval- 
ry. In  a  moment  more  we  were  underway  again,  galloping 
due  northward,  and,  as  I  surmised,  toward  Hanover  Court 
House.  If  any  branch  of  the  military  service  is  feverish,  adven- 
turous, and  exciting,  it  is  that  of  the  cavalry.  One's  heart 
beats  as  fast  as  the  hoof-falls ;  there  is  no  music  like  the 


84  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   XOX-COMBATANT. 

winding  of  the  bugle,  and  no  monotone  so  full  of  meaning 
as  the  clink  of  sabres  rising  and  falling  with  the  dashir.g 
pace.  Horse  and  rider  become  one,  —  a  new  race  of  Cen- 
taurs, —  and  the  charge,  the  stroke,  the  crack  of  carbines, 
are  so  quick,  vehement,  and  dramatic,  that  we  seem  to  be 
watching  the  joust  of  tournaments  or  following  fierce  Sala- 
dins  and  Crusaders  again.  We  had  ridden  two  hours  at  a 
fair  canter,  when  we  came  to  a  small  stream  that  crossed 
the  road  obliquely,  and  gurgled  away  through  a  sandy  val- 
ley into  the  deepnesses  of  the  woods.  A  cart-track,  half 
obliterated,  here  diverged,  running  parallel  with  the  creek, 
and  the  Major  held  up  his  sword  as  a  signal  to  halt ;  at  the 
same  moment  the  bugle  blew  a  quick,  shrill  note. 

"  There  are  hoof-mai'ks  here  !  "  grunted  the  Major,  — 
"  five  of  'em.  The  Dutchman  has  gone  into  the  thicket. 
Hulloo  !  "  he  added,  precipitately  —  "there  go  the  car- 
bines !  " 

I  heard,  clearly,  two  explosions  in  rapid  succession  ;  then 
a  general  discharge,  as  of  several  persons  firing  at  once, 
and  at  last,  five  continuous  reports,  fainter,  but  more  regu- 
lar, and  like  the  several  emptyings  of  a  revolver.  I  had 
scarcely  time  to  note  these  things,  and  the  effect  produced 
upon  the  troop,  when  strange  noises  came  from  the  woods 
to  the  right :  the  floundering  of  steeds,  the  cries  and  curses 
of  men,  and  the  ringing  of  steel  striking  steel.  Directly 
the  boughs  crackled,  the  leaves  quivered,  and  a  horse  and 
rider  plunged  into  the  road,  not  five  rods  from  my  feet. 
The  man  was  bareheaded,  and  his  face  and  clothing  were 
torn  with  briars  and  branches.  He  was  at  first  riding  fairly 
upon  our  troops,  when  he  beheld  the  uniform  and  standards, 
and  with  a  sharp  oath  flung  up  his  sword  and  hands. 

"  I  surrender  !  "  he  said  ;  "  I  give  in  !     Don't  shoot !  " 

The  scores  of  carbines  that  were  levelled  upon  him  at 
once  dropped  to  their  rests  at  the  saddles  ;  but  some  unseen 
avenger  had  not  heeded  the  shriek  ;  a  ball  whistled  from  the 
woods,  and  the  man  fell  from  his  cushion  like  a  stone.  In 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  85 

another  instant,  the  German  sergeant  bounded  through  the 
gap,  holding  his  sabre  aloft  in  his  right  hand ;  but  the  left 
hung  stiff  and  shattered  at  his  side,  and  his  face  was  deathly 
white.  He  glared  an  instant  at  the  dead  man  by  the  road- 
side, leered  grimly,  and  called  aloud  — 

'-  Come  on,  Major  !  Dis  vay  !  Dere  are  a  squad  of  dem 
ahead  !  " 

The  bugle  at  once  sounded  a  charge,  the  Major  rose  in 
the  stirrups,  and  thundered  "Forward!"  I  reined  aside, 
intuitively,  and  the  column  dashed  hotly  past  me.  With  a 
glance  at  the  heap  of  mortality  littering  the  way,  I  spurred 
my  nag  sharpty,  and  followed  hard  behind.  The  riderless 
horse  seemed  to  catch  the  fever  of  the  moment,  and  closed 
up  with  me,  leaving  his  master  the  solitary  tenant  of  the 
dell.  For  perhaps  three  miles  we  galloped  like  the  wind, 
and  my  brave  little  traveller  overtook  the  hindmost  of  the 
troop,  and  retained  the  position.  Thrice  there  were  dis- 
charges ahead  ;  I  caught  glimpses  of  the  Major,  the  Cap- 
tain, and  the  wolfish  sergeant,  far  in  the  advance  ;  and  once 
saw,  through  the  cloud  of  dust  that  beset  them,  the  pur- 
sued and  their  individual  pursuers,  turning  the  top  of  a 
hill.  But  for  the  most  part,  I  saw  nothing  ;  I  felt  all  the 
intense,  consuming,  burning  ardor  of  the  time  and  the  event. 
I  thought  that  my  hand  clutched  a  sabre,  and  despised  my- 
self that  it  was  not  there.  I  stood  in  the  stirrups,  and  held 
some  invisible  enemy  by  the  throat.  In  a  word,  the  bloodi- 
ness .of  the  chase  was  upon  me.  I  realized  the  fierce  infatu- 
ation of  matching  life  with  life,  and  standing  arbiter  upon 
my  fellow's  body  and  soul.  It  seemed  but  a  moment,  when 
we  halted,  red  and  panting,  in  the  paltry  Court  House  vil- 
lage of  Hanover  ;  the  field-pieces  hurled  a  few  shells  at  the 
escaping  Confederates,  and  the  men  were  ordered  to  dis- 
mount. 

It  seemed  that  a  Confederate  picket  had  been  occupying 
the  village,  and  the  creek  memorized  by  the  skirmish  was 
8 


80  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT. 

an  outpost  merely.     Two  of  the  man  Otto's  party  had  been 
slain  in  the  woods,  where  also  lay  as  many  Southerners. 

Hanover  Court  House  is  renowned  as  the  birthplace  of 
Patrick  Henry,  the  colonial  orator,  called  by  Byron  the 
"  forest  Demosthenes."  In  a  little  tavern,  opposite  the  old 
Court  House  building,  he  began  his  humble  career  as  a 
measurer  of  gills  to  convivials,  and  in  the  Court  House,  — 
a  small  stone  edifice,  plainly  but  quaintly  constructed,  —  he 
gave  the  first  exhibitions  of  his  matchless  eloquence.  Not 
far  away,  on  a  by-road,  the  more  modern  but  not  less  fa- 
mous orator,  Henry  Clay,  was  born.  The  region  adjacent 
to  his  father's  was  called  the  "  Slashes  of  Hanover,"  and 
thence  came  his  appellation  of  the  "  Mill  Boy  of  the 
Slashes."  I  had  often  longed  to  visit  these  shrines  ;  but 
never  dreamed  that  the  booming  of  cannon  would  announce 
me.  The  soldiers  broke  into  both  the  tavern  and  court- 
house, and  splintered  some  chairs  in  the  former  to  obtain 
relics  of  Henry.  I  secured  Richmond  newspapers  of  the 
same  morning,  and  also  some  items  of  intelligence.  With 
these  I  decided  to  repair  at  once  to  White  House,  and 
formed  the  rash  determination  of  taking  the  direct  or  Pa- 
rnunkey  road,  which  I  had  never  travelled,  and  which  might 
be  beset  by  Confederates.  The  distance  to  White  House, 
by  this  course,  was  only  twenty  miles  ;  whereas  it  was 
nearly  as  far  to  head-quarters  ;  and  I  believed  that  my  horse 
had  still  the  persistence  to  carry  me.  It  was  past  four 
o'clock  ;  but  I  thought  to  ride  six  miles  an  hour  while  day- 
light lasted,  and,  by  good  luck,  get  to  the  depot  at  nine. 
The  Major  said  that  it  was  foolhardiness  ;  the  Captain  ban- 
tered me  to  go.  I  turned  my  back  upon  both,  and  bade 
them  good  by. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

PUT    UNDER    ARREST. 

WHILE  daylight  remained,  I  had  little  reason  to  repent  my 
\vayward  resolve.  The  Pamunkey  lay  to  my  left,  and  the 
residences  between  it  and  the  road  were  of  a  better  order 
than  others  that  I  had  seen.  This  part  of  the  country  had 
not  been  overrun,  and  the  wheat  and  young  corn  were 
waving  in  the  river-breeze.  I  saw  few  negroes,  but  the 
porches  were  frequentty  occupied  by  women  and  white  men, 
who  looked  wonderingly  toward  me.  There  were  some 
hoof-marks  in  the  clay,  and  traces  of  a  broad  tire  that  I 
thought  belonged  to  a  gun-carriage.  The  hills  of  King 
William  County  were  but  a  little  way  oif,  and  through  the 
wood  that  darkened  them,  sunny  glimpses  of  vari-colored 
fields  and  dwellings  now  and  then  appeared.  I  came  to  a 
shabby  settlement  called  New  Castle,  at  six  o'clock,  where 
an  evil-looking  man  walked  out  from  a  franie-house,  and 
inquired  the  meaning  of  the  firing  at  Hanover. 

I  explained  hurriedly,  as  some  of  his  neighbors  meantime 
gathered  around  me.  They  asked  if  I  was  not  a  soldier  in 
the  Yankee  army,  and  as  I  rode  away,  followed  me  sus- 
piciously with  their  eyes  and  wagged  their  heads.  To  end 
the  matter  I  spurred  my  pony  and  soon  galloped  out  of 
sight.  Henceforward  I  met  only  stern,  surprised  glances, 
and  seemed  to  read  "murder"  in  the  faces  of  the  inhab- 
itants. A  wide  creek  crossed  the  road  about  five  miles 
further  on,  where  I  stopped  to  water  my  horse.  The  shades 

(87) 


88  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    NON-COMBATANT. 

of  night  were  gathering  now  ;  there  was  no  moon  ;  and  for 
the  first  time  I  realized  the  loneliness  of  my  position.  Hith- 
erto, adventure  had  laughed  down  fear ;  hereafter  niy  mind 
was  to  be  darkened  like  the  gloaming,  and  peopled  with 
ghastly  shadows. 

I  was  yet  young  in  the  experience  of  death,  and  the  top- 
pled corpse  of  the  slain  cavalry-man  on  the  scout,  somehow 
haunted  me.  I  heard  his  hoof-falls  chiming  with  my  own, 
and  imagined,  with  a  cold  thrill,  that  his  steed  was  still 
following  me ;  then,  his  white  rigid  face  and  uplifted  arms 
menaced  my  way ;  and,  at  last,  the  ruffianly  form  of  his 
slayer  pursued  him  along  the  wood.  They  glided  like  shad- 
ows over  the  foliage,  and  flashed  across  the  surfaces  of  pools 
and  rivulets.  I  heard  their  steel  ringing  in  the  underbrush, 
and  they  flitted  around  me,  pursuing  and  retreating,  till  my 
brain  began  to  whirl  with  the  motion.  Suddenly  my  horse 
stumbled,  and  I  reined  him  to  a  halt. 

The  cold  drops  were  standing  on  my  forehead.  I  found 
my  knees  a-quiver  and  my  breathing  convulsive.  With  an 
expletive  upon  my  unmanliness,  I  touched  the  nag  with  my 
heel,  and  whistled  encouragingly.  Poor  pony  !  Fifty  miles 
of  almost  uninterrupted  travel  had  broken  his  spirit.  He 
leaped  into  his  accustomed  pace  :  but  his  legs  were  unsteady 
and  he  floundered  at  every  bound.  There  were  pools,  ruts, 
and  boughs  across  the  way,  with  here  and  there  stretches 
of  slippery  corduroy  ;  but  the  thick  blackness  concealed 
these,  and  I  expected  momentarily  to  be  thrown  from  the 
saddle.  By  and  by  he  dropped  from  a  canter  into  a  rock  ; 
from  a  rock  to  an  amble  ;  then  into  a  walk,  and  finally  to  a 
slow  painful  limp.  I  dismounted  and  took  him  perplexedly 
by  the  bit.  A  light  shone  from  the  window  of  a  dwelling 
across  some  open  fields  to  the  left,  and  I  thought  of  repair- 
ing thither;  but  some  deep-mouthed  dogs  began  to  bay 
directly,  and  then  the  lamp  went  out.  A  tiny  stream  sang 
at  the  roadside,  flowing  toward  some  deeper  tributary ; 
lighting  a  cigar,  I  made  out,  by  its  fitful  illuminings,  to  wash 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  89 

the  limbs  of  the  jaded  nag.  Then  I  led  him  for  an  hour,  till 
my  own  limbs  were  weary,  troubled  all  the  time  by  weird 
imaginings,  doubts,  and  regrets.  When  I  resumed  the 
saddle  the  horse  had  a  firmer  step  and  walked  pleasantly. 
I  ventured  after  a  time  to  incite  him  to  a  trot,  and  was  going 
nicely  forward,  when  a  deep  voice,  that  almost  took  my 
breath,  called  from  the  gloom  — 

"  Who  comes  there  ?  Halt,  or  I  fire !  Guard,  turn 
out !  " 

Directly  the  road  was  full  of  men,  and  a  bull's-eye  lan- 
tern flashed  upon  my  face.  A  group  of  foot-soldiery,  with 
drawn  pistols  and  sabres,  gathered  around  me,  and  I  heard 
the  neigh  of  steeds  from  some  imperceptible  vicinity. 
"  Who  is  it,  Sergeant?  "  said  one.  "  Is  there  but  one  of 
'em  ?  "  said  another.  "  Cuss  him  !  "  said  a  third  ;  "I  was 
takin'  a  bully  snooze."  "Who  are  yeou?"  said  the  Ser- 
geant, sternly  ;  "  what  are  yeou  deouin'  aout  at  this  hour  o1 
the  night  ?  Are  yeou  a  rebbil  ?  " 

"No!"  I  answered,  greatly  relieved;  "I  am  a  news- 
paper correspondent  of  Smith's  division,  and  there's  my 
pass  !  " 

I  was  taken  over  to  a  place  in  the  woods,  where  some 
fagots  were  smouldering,  and,  stirring  them  to  a  blaze,  the 
Sergeant  read  the  document  and  pronounced  it  right. 

"  Yeou  hain't  got  no  business,  nevertheless,  to  be  roamin' 
araound  outside  o'  picket ;  but  seein'  as  it's  yeou,  I  reckon 
yeou  may  trot  along !  " 

I  offered  to  exchange  my  information  for  a  biscuit  and  a 
drop  of  coflee,  for  I  was  wellnigh  worn  out ;  while  one  of 
the  privates  produced  a  canteen  more  wholesome  than 
cleanly,  another  gave  me  a  lump  of  fat  pork  and  a  piece  of 
corn  bread.  They  gathered  sleepily  about  me,  while  I  told 
of  the  scout,  and  the  Sergeant  said  that  my  individual  ride 
was  "  game  enough,  but  nothin'  but  darn  nonsense."  Then 
they  fed  my  horse  with  a  trifle  of  oats,  and  after  awhile  I 
8* 


90  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   XON-COMBATANT. 

climbed,  stiff  and  bruised,  to  the  saddle  again,  and  bade 
them  good  night. 

I  knew  now  that  I  was  at  "  Putney's,"  a  ford  on  the 
Pamunkey,  and  an  hour  later  I  came  in  sight  of  the  ship- 
lights  at  White  House,  and  heard  the  steaming  of  tugs  and 
draught-boats,  going  and  coming  by  night.  I  hitched  my 
horse  to  a  tree,  pilfered  some  hay  and  fodder  from  two  or 
three  nags  tied  adjacent,  and  picked  my  way  across  a  gang- 
way, several  barge-decks,  and  a  floating  landing,  to  the  mail 
steamer  that  lay  outside.  Her  deck  and  cabin  were  filled 
with  people,  stretched  lengthwise  and  crosswise,  tangled, 
grouped,  and  snoring,  but  all  apparently  fast  asleep.  I 
coolly  took  a  blanket  from  a  man  that  looked  as  though  he 
did  not  need  it,  and  wrapped  myself  cosily  under  a  bench 
in  a  corner.  The  cabin  light  flared  dimly,  half  irradiating 
the  forms  below,  and  the  boat  heaved  a  little  on  the  river- 
swells.  The  night  was  cold,  the  floor  hard,  and  I  almost 
dead  with  fatigue.  But  what  of  that !  I  felt  the  newspa- 
pers in  my  breast  pocket,  and  knew  that  the  mail  could  not 
leave  me  in  the  morning.  Blessed  be  the  news-gatherer's 
sleep  !  I  think  he  earned  it. 

It  was  very  pleasant,  at  dawn,  to  receive  the  congratula- 
tions of  our  agent,  with  whom  I  breakfasted,  and  to  whom 
I  consigned  a  hastily  written  letter  and  all  the  Richmond 
papers  of  the  preceding  day.  He  was  a  shrewd,  sanguine, 
middle-aged  man,  of  large  experience  and  good  standing  in 
our  establishment.  He  was  sent  through  the  South  at 
the  beginning  of  the  Rebellion,  and  introduced  into  all  public 
bodies  and  social  circles,  that  he  might  fathom  the  designs 
of  Secession,  and  comprehend  its  spirit.  Afterward  he 
accompanied  the  Hatteras  and  Port  Royal  expeditions,  and 
witnessed  those  celebrated  bombardments.  Such  a  thorough 
individual  abnegation  I  never  knew.  He  was  a  part  of  the 
establishment,  body  and  soul.  He  agreed  with  its  politics, 
adhered  to  all  its  policies,  defended  it,  upheld  it,  revered  it. 
The  Federal  Government  was,  to  his  eye,  merely  an  adjunct 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  91 

of  the  paper.  Battles  and  sieges  were  simply  occurrences 
for  its  columns.  Good  men,  brave  men,  bad  men,  died  to 
give  it  obituaries.  The  whole  world  was  to  him  a  Report- 
er's district,  and  all  human  mutations  plain  matters  of  news. 
I  hardly  think  that  any  city,  other  than  New  York,  contains 
such  characters.  The  journals  there  are  full  of  fever,  and 
the  profession  of  journalism  is  a  disease. 

He  cashed  me  a  draft  for  a  hundred  dollars,  and  I  filled 
my  saddle-bags  with  smoking-tobacco,  spirits,  a  meer- 
schaum pipe,  packages  of  sardines,  a  box  of  cigars,  and 
some  cheap  publications.  Then  we  adjourned  to  the  qua}r. 
where  the  steamer  was  taking  in  mails,  freight  and  passen- 
gers. The  papers  were  in  his  side-pocket,  and  he  was 
about  to  commit  them  to  a  steward  for  transmission  to 
Fortress  Monroe,  when  my  name  was  called  from  the  strand 
by  a  young  mounted  officer,  connected  with  one  of  the  staffs 
of  my  division.  I  thought  that  he  wished  to  exchange  sal- 
utations or  make  some  inquiries,  and  tripped  to  his  side. 

"  General  McClellan  wants  those  newspapers  that  you 
obtained  at  Hanover  yesterday !  " 

A  thunderbolt  would  not  have  more  transfixed  me.  I 
could  not  speak  for  a  moment.  Finally,  I  stammered  that 
they  were  out  of  my  possession. 

"  Then,  sir,  I  arrest  you,  by  order  of  General  McClellan. 
Get  your  horse  !  " 

"  Stop  !  "  said  I,  agitatedly,  " — it  may  not  be  too  late. 
I  can  recover  them  yet.  Here  is  our  agent, —  I  gave  them 
to  him." 

I  turned,  at  the  word,  to  the  landing  where  he  stood  a 
moment  before.  To  my  dismay,  he  had  disappeared. 

"  This  is -some  frivolous  pretext  to  escape,"  said  the  Lieu- 
tenant ;  you  correspondents  are  slippery  fellows,  but  I  shall 
take  care  that  you  do  not  play  any  pranks  with  me.  The 
General  is  irritated  already,  and  if  you  prevaricate  relative 
to  those  papers  he  may  make  a  signal  example  of  you." 

I  begged  to  be  allowed  to  look  for ;  but  he  answered 


92  CAMPAIGNS   OF  A   NOX-COMBATANT. 

cunningly,  that  I  had  better  mount  and  ride  on.  An  ac- 
quaintance of  mine  here  interfered,  and  testified  to  the  ex- 
istency  of  the  agent  and  his  probable  connection  with  the 
journals.  Pale,  flurried,  excited,  I  started  to  discover  him, 
the  Lieutenant  following  me  closely  meantime.  We  entered 
every  booth  and  tent,  went  from  craft  to  craft,  sought 
among  the  thick  clusters  of  people,  and  even  at  the  Com- 
missary's and  Quartermaster's  pounds,  that  lay  some  dis- 
tance up  the  railroad. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you,  old  fellow,"  said  the  Lieutenant, 
"but  your  accomplice  has  probably  escaped.  It's  very 
sneaking  of  him,  as  it  makes  it  harder  for  you  ;  but  I  have 
no  authority  to  deal  with  him,  though  I  shall  take  care  to 
report  his  conduct  at  head-quarters." 

I  found  that  the  Lieutenant  was  greatly  gratified  with  the 
duty  entrusted  to  him.  He  had  been  at  the  cavalry  quar- 
ters on  the  return  of  the  scouting  party,  and  had  overheard 
the  Major  muttering  something  as  to  McClellan's  displeasure 
at  receiving  no  Richmond  journals.  The  Major  had  added 
that  one  of  the  correspondents  took  them  to  White  House, 
and,  mentioning  me  by  name,  this  young  and  aspiring  sat- 
ellite had  blurted  out  that  he  knew  me,  and  could  doubt- 
less overtake  me  at  the  mail-boat  in  the  morning.  The  Com- 
manding General  authorized  him  to  arrest  me  with  the  pa- 
pers, and  report  at  head-quarters.  This  was  then  a  journey 
to  recommend  him  to  authority,  and  it  involved  no  personal 
danger.  I  was  not  so  intimidated  that  I  failed  to  see  how 
the  Lieutenant  would  lose  his  gayest  feather  by  failing  to 
recover  the  journals,  and  I  dexterously  insinuated  that  it 
would  be  well  to  recommence  the  search.  This  time  we 
were  successful.  The  shrewd,  sanguine,  middle-aged  man 
was  coolly  contemplating  the  river  from  an  outside  barge, 
concealed  from  the  shore  by  piled  boxes  of  ammunition. 
He  was  reading  a  phonetic  pamphlet,  and  appeared  to  take 
his  apprehension  as  a  pleasant  morning  call.  I  caught  one 
meaning  glance,  however,  that  satisfied  me  how  clearly  he 
understood  4he  case. 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  93 

"Ha!  Townsend,"  said  he,  smilingly,  "  back  already ? 
I  thought  we  had  lost  you.  One  of  your  military  friends  ? 
Good-day,  Lieutenant." 

"  I  am  under  arrest,  my  boy,"  said  I,  "  and  you  will  much 
aggravate  General  McClellan,  if  you  do  not  consign  those 
Richmond  journals  to  his  deputy  here." 

"  Under  arrest  ?  '  You  surprise  me  !  I  am  sorry,  Lieuten- 
ant that  you  have  had  so  fatiguing  a  ride,  but  the  fact  is, 
those  papers  have  gone  down  the  river.  If  the  General  is 
not  in  a  great  hurry,  he  will  see  their  columns  reproduced 
by  us  in  a  few  days.1' 

"  How  did  they  go  ?  "  said  the  Lieutenant,  with  an  oath, 
"  if  by  the  mail-boat  I  will  have  General  Van  Vliet  despatch 
a  tug  to  overhaul  her." 

"I  am  very  sorry  again,"  said  the  bland  civilian, 
smoothing  his  hands  :  "but  they  went  by  the  South  Amer- 
ica at  a  much  earlier  hour." 

I  looked  appealingly  to  him  ;  the  satellite  stared  down 
the  river  perplexedly,  but  suddenly  his  eye  fell  upon  some- 
thing that  absorbed  it ;  and  he  turned  like  a  madman 
to 

"By! sir,  you  are  lying  to  me.     There  is  the 

South  America  moored  to  a  barge,  and  her  steam  is  not 
up!" 

"  Those  words  are  utterly  uncalled  for,"  said  the  agent,  — 
"but  you  cannot  irritate  me,  my  dear  sir!  I  know  that 
youth  is  hot,  —  particularly  military  youth  yet  inexperi- 
enced ;  and  therefore  I  pardon  you.  I  made  a  mistake.  It 
was  not  the  South  America,  it  was  —  it  was  —  upon  my 
word  I  cannot  recall  the  name  !  " 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  !  "  thundered  the  young  Ajax,  to 

whose  vanity, 's  speech  had  been  gall ;  "  my  powers  are 

discretionary :     I    arrest    you    in    the    name    of    General 
McClellan." 

"  Indeed !  Be  sure  you  understand  your  orders !  It 
isn't  probable  that  such  a  fiery  blade  is  allowed  much  dis- 


04  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT. 

cretionary  margin.  The  General  himself  would  not  assume 
such  airs.  Why  don't  you  shoot  me  ?  It  might  contribute 
to  your  promotion,  and  that  is,  no  doubt,  your  object.  I 
know  General  McClellan  very  well.  He  is  a  personal 
friend  of  mine." 

His  manner  was  so  self-possessed,  his  tone  so  cutting, 
that  the  young  man  of  fustian  —  whose  name  was  Kenty  — 
fingered  his  sword  hilt,  and  foamed  at  the  lips. 

"March  on,"  said  he,  —  "I  will  report  this  insolence 
word  for  word." 

He  motioned  us  to  the  quay  ;  we  preceded  him.  The 
sanguine  gentleman  keeping  up  a  running  fire  of  malevolent 
sarcasm. 

"  Stop  !  "  said  he  quietly,  as  we  reached  his  tent,  —  "  I 
have  not  sent  them  at  all.  They  are  here.  And  you  have 
made  all  this  exhibition  of  yourself  for  nothing.  I  am  the 
better  soldier,  you  see.  You  are  a  drummer-boy,  not  an 
officer.  Take  off  your  shoulder-bars,  and  go  to  school 
again." 

He  disappeared  a  minute,  returned  with  two  journals, 
and  looking  at  me,  meaningly,  turned  to  their  titles. 

"  Let  me  see  !  "  he  said,  smoothly,  —  "  Richmond  Exam- 
iner, May  28,  Richmond  Enquirer,  May  22.  There  !  You 
have  them !  Go  in  peace !  Give  my  respects  to  General 
McClellan  I  Townsend,  old  fellow,  you  have  done  your  full 
duty.  Don't  let  this  young  person  frighten  you.  Good 
by." 

He  gave  me  his  hand,  with  a  sinister  glance,  and  left 
something  in  my  palm  when  his  own  was  withdrawn.  I 
examined  it  hastily  when  I  girt  up  iny  saddle.  It  said : 
"  Your  budget  got  off  safe,  old,  fellow."  He  had  given 
Kenty  some  old  journals  that  were  of  no  value  to  anybody. 
When  we  were  mounted  and  about  to  start,  the  Lieutenant 
looked  witheringly  upon  his  persecutor  — 

"  Allow  me  to  say,  sir,"  he  exclaimed,  "  that  you  are  the 
most  unblushing  liar  I  ever  knew." 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    NON-COMBATANT.  95 

"Thank    you,    kindly,"    said ,  taking    off  his    hat, 

"  you  do  me  honor  !  " 

Our  route  was  silent  and  weary  enough.  The  young  man 
at  my  side,  unconscious  of  his  wily  antagonist's  deception, 
boasted  for  some  time  that  he  had  attained  his  purposes.  As 
I  could  not  undeceive  him,  I  held  my  tongue  ;  but  feared 
that  when  this  trick  should  be  made  manifest,  the  vengeance 
would  fall  on  me  alone.  I  heartily  wished  the  unlucky 
papers  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  To  gratify  an  adventurous 
whim,  and  obtain  a  day's  popularity  at  New  York,  I  had 
exposed  my  life,  crippled  my  nag,  and  was  now  to  be  dis- 
graced and  punished.  What  might  or  might  not  befall  me, 
I  gloomily  debated.  The  least  penalty  would  be  expulsion 
from  the  army  ;  but  imprisonment  till  the  close  of  the  war, 
was  a  favorite  amusement  with  the  War  Office.  How  my 
newspaper  connection  would  be  embarrassed  was  a  more 
grievous  inquiry.  It  stung  me  to  think  that  I  had  blun- 
dered twice  on  the  very  threshold  of  my  career.  Was  I  not 
acquiring  a  reputation  for  rashness  that  would  hinder  all 
future  promotion  and  cast  me  from  the  courts  of  the 
press.  Here  the  iron  entered  into  my  soul ;  for  be  it 
known,  I  loved  Bohemia  !  This  roving  commission,  these 
vagabond  habits,  this  life  in  the  open  air  among  the  armies, 
the  white  tents,  the  cannon,  and  the  drums,  they  were  my 
elysium,  my  heart !  But  to  be  driven  away,  as  one  who  had 
broken  his  trust,  forfeited  favor  and  confidence,  and  that  too 
on  the  eve  of  grand  events,  was  something  that  would  em- 
bitter my  existence. 

We  passed  the  familiar  objects  that  I  had  so  often  buoy- 
antly beheld,  —  deserted  encampments,  cross-roads,  rills, 
farm-houses,  fields,  and  at  last  came  to  Daker's.  I  called 
out  to  them,  and  explained  my  woful  circumstances  with 
rueful  conciseness. 

It  was  growing  dark  when  we  came  to  general  head- 
quarters, two  miles  beyond  Gaines's  Mill.  The  tents  were 
scattered  over  the  surface  of  a  hill,  and  most  of  them  were 
illumined  by  candles. 


96  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT. 

The  Lieutenant  gave  our  horses  to  an  orderly,  and  led  the 
way  through  two  outer  circles  of  wall-tents,  between  which 
and  the  inner  circle,  guards  were  pacing,  to  deny  all  vulgar 
ingress. 

A  staft'  officer  took  in  our  names,  and  directly  returned 
with  the  reply  of  "  Pass  in ! "  We  were  now  in  the 
sacred  enclosure,  secured  by  flaming  swords.  Four  tents 
stood  in  a  row,  allotted  respectively  to  the  Chief  of  Staff, 
the  Adjutant-General,  the  telegraph  operators,  and  the 
select  staff  officers.  Just  behind  them,  embowered  by  a 
covering  of  cedar  boughs,  stood  the  tent  of  General  Mc- 
Clellan.  Close  by,  from  an  open  plot  or  area  of  ground, 
towered  a  pine  trunk,  floating  the  national  flag.  Lights 
burned  in  three  of  the  tents  :  low  voices,  as  of  subdued  con- 
versation, were  heard  from  the  first. 

A  little  flutter  of  my  heart,  a  drawing  aside  of  canvas, 
two  steps,  an  uncovering,  and  a  bow,  —  I  stood  at  my 
tribunal !  A  couple  of  candles  were  placed  upon  a  table, 
whereat  sat  a  fine  specimen  of  man,  with  kindly  features, 
dark,  grayish,  flowing  hair,  and  slight  marks  of  years  upon 
his  full,  purplish  face.  He  looked  to  be  a  well-to-do  citizen, 
whose  success  had  taught  him  sedentary  convivialities.  A 
fuming  cigar  lay  before  him ;  some  empty  champagne  bottles 
sat  upon  a  pine  desk  ;  tumblers  and  a  decanter  rested  upon  a 
camp-stool ;  a  bucket,  filled  with  water  and  a  great  block 
of  ice,  was  visible  under  the  table.  Five  other  gentlemen, 
each  with  a  star  in  his  shoulder-bar,  were  dispersed  upon 
chairs  and  along  a  camp  bedside.  The  tall,  angular,  dig- 
nified gentleman  with  compressed  lips  and  a  "character" 
nose,  was  General  Barry,  Chief  of  Artillery.  The  lithe, 
severe,  gristly,  sanguine  person,  whose  eyes  flashed  even  in 
repose,  was  General  Stoneman,  Chief  of  Cavalry.'  The 
large,  sleepy-eyed,  lymphatic,  elderly  man,  clad  in  dark, 
civil  gray,  whose  ears  turned  up  habitually  as  from  deafness, 
was  Prince  de  Joinville,  brother  to  Louis  Philippe,  King  of 
France.  The  little  man  with  red  hair  and  beard,  who  moved 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  (J7 

quickly  and  who  spoke  sharply,  was  Seth  Williams,  Ad- 
jutant-General. The  stout  person  with  florid  face,  large, 
blue  eyes,  and  white,  straight  hair,  was  General  Van  Vliet, 
Quarfermaster-General.  And  the  man  at  the  table,  was 
General  Marcy,  father-in-law  to  McClellan,  and  Executive 
officer  of  the  army. 

Maps,  papers,  books,  and  luggage  lay  around  the  room  ; 
all  the  gentlemen  were  smoking  and  wine  sparkled  in  most 
of  the  glasses.  Some  swords  were  lying  upon  the  floor,  a 
pair  of  spurs  glistened  by  the  bed,  and  three  of  the  officers 
had  their  feet  in  the  air. 

"  What  is  it  you  wish,  Lieutenant  ?  "  said  General  Marcy, 
gravely. 

The  boor  in  uniform  at  my  side,  related  his  errand  and 
order,  gave  the  particulars  of  my  arrest,  declaimed  against 
our  agent,  and  submitted  the  journals.  He  told  his  story 
stammeringly,  and  I  heard  one  of  the  officers  in  the  back- 
ground mutter  contemptuously  when  he  had  finished. 

"  Were  you  aware  of  the  order  prohibiting  correspond- 
ents from  keeping  with  the  advance  ?  "  said  the  General, 
looking  up. 

"  I  had  not  been  notified  from  head-quarters.  I  have  been 
with  the  army  only  a  week." 

"  You  knew  that  you  had  no  business  upon  scouts,  for- 
ages, or  reconnoissances  ;  why  did  you  go  ?  " 

"  I  went  by  invitation." 

"  Who  invited  you  ?  " 

"  I  would  prefer  not  to  state,  since  it  would  do  him  an 
injury." 

Here  the  voices  in  the  background  muttered,  as  I  thought, 
applaudingly.  Gaining  confidence  as  I  proceeded,  I  spoke 
more  boldly  — 

"  I  am  sure  I  regret  that  I  have  disobeyed  any  order  of 
General  McClellan's  ;  but  there  can  nothing  occur  in  the 
rear  of  an  army.     Obedience,  in  this  case,  would  be  indo- 
lence and  incompetence ;  for  only  the  reliable  would  stay 
9 


98  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

behind  and  the  reckless  go  ahead.  If  I  am  accredited  here 
as  a  correspondent,  I  must  keep  up  with  the  events.  And 
the  rivalries  of  our  tribe,  General,  are  so  many,  that  the 
best  of  us  sometimes  forget  what  is  right  for  what  is  expe- 
dient. I  hope  that  General  McClellan  will  pass  by  this 
offence." 

He  heard  my  rambling  defence  quietly,  excused  the  Lieu- 
tenant, and  whistled  for  an  orderly. 

"  I  don't  think  that  you  meant  to  offend  General  McClel- 
lan," he  said,  "but  he  wishes  you  to  be  detained.  Give 
me  your  pass.  Orderly,  take  this  gentleman  to  General 
Porter,  and  tell  him  to  treat  him  kindly.  Good  night." 

When  we  got  outside  of  the  tent,  I  slipped  a  silver  half- 
dollar  into  the  orderly's  hand,  and  asked  him  if  he  under- 
stood the  General's  final  remark.  He  said,  in  reply,  that  I 
was  directed  to  be  treated  with  courtesy,  kindness,  and  care", 
and  asked  me,  in  conclusion,  if  there  were  any  adjectives 
that  might  intensify  the  recommendation.  When  we  came 
to  General  Porter,  the  Provost-Marshal,  however,  he  pooh- 
poohed  the  qualifications,  and  said  that  his  business  was 
merely  to  put  me  under  surveillance.  This  unamiable  man 
ordered  me  to  be  taken  to  Major  Willard,  the  deputy  Pro- 
vost, whose  tent  we  found  after  a  long  search.  The  Major 
was  absent,  but  some  young  officers  of  his  mess  were  tak- 
ing supper  at  his  table,  and  with  these  I  at  once  engaged 
in  conversation. 

I  knew  that  if  I  was  to  be  spared  an  immersion  in  the 
common  guardhouse,  with  drunkards,  deserters,  and  prison- 
ers of  war,  I  must  win  the  favor  of  these  men.  I  gave 
them  the  story  of  my  arrest,  spoke  lightly  of  the  offence 
and  jestingly  of  the  punishment,  and,  in  fact,  so  improved 
my  cause  that,  when  the  Major  appeared,  and  the  Sergeant 
consigned  me  to  his  custody,  one  of  the  young  officers  took 
him  aside,  and,  I  am  sure,  said  some  good  words  in  my 
favor. 

The  Major  was  a  bronzed,  indurated  gentleman,  scrupu- 


/5AMPAIGW8   OF  A  NON-COMBATANT.  VV 

lously  attired,  and  courteously  stern.  He  looked  at  me 
twice  or  thrice,  to  my  confusion  ;  for  I  was  dusty,  wan, 
and  running  over  with  perspiration.  His  first  remark  had, 
naturally,  reference  to  the  lavatory,  and,  so  far  as  my  face 
and  hair  were  concerned,  I  was  soon  rejuvenated.  I  found 
on  my  return  to  the  tent,  a  clean  plate  and  a  cup  of  steam- 
ing cofFee  placed  for  me,  and  I  ate  with  a  full  heart  though 
pleading  covertly  the  while.  When  I  had  done,  and  the 
tent  became  deserted  by  all  save  him  and  me,  he  said,  sim- 

piy— 

"  What  am  I  to  do  with  you,  Mr.  Townsend  ?  " 
"  Treat  me  as  a  gentleman,  I  hope,  Major." 
"We  have  but  one  place  of  confinement,"  said  he,  "the 
guardhouse  ;  but  I  am  loth  to  send  you  there.     Light  your 
pipe,  and  I  will  think  the  matter  over." 

He  took  a  turn  in  front,  consulted  with  some  of  his  asso- 
ciates, and  directly  returning,  said  that  I  was  to  be  quar- 
tered in  his  office-tent,  adjoining.  A  horror  being  thus  lifted 
from  my  mind,  I  heard  with  sincere  interest  many  revela- 
tions of  his  military  career.  He  had  been  a  common  sol- 
dier in  the  Mexican  war,  and  had  fought  his  way,  step  by 
etep,  to  repeated  commissions.  He  had  garrisoned  Fort 
Yuma,  and  other  posts  on  the  far  plains,  and  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  war  was  tendered  a  volunteer  brigade,  which 
he  modestly  declined.  His  tastes  were  refined,  and  a  warm 
fancy,  approaching  poetry,  enhanced  his  personal  reminis- 
cences. His  face  softened,  his  eyes  grew  milder,  his  large, 
commanding  mouth  relaxed, —  he  was  young  again,  living 
his  adventures  over.  We  talked  thus  till  almost  midnight, 
when  two  regulars  appeared  in  front, —  stiff,  ramrodish  fig- 
ures, that  came  to  a  jerking  "present,"  tapped  their  caps 
with  two  fingers,  and  said,  explosively ;  "  Sergeant  of 
Guard,  Number  Five  !  " 

The  Major  rose,  gave  me  his  hand,  and  said  that  I  would 
find  a  candle  in  my  tent,  with  waterproof  and  blankets  on 
the  ground.  I  was  to  give  myself  no  concern  about  the 


100  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT. 

nag,  and  might,  if  I  chose,  sit  for  an  hour  to  write,  but 
must,  on  no  account,  attempt  to  leave  the  canvas,  for  the 
guard  would  instantly  shoot  me  down.  The  guard  in  ques- 
tion had  a  doppel-ganger,  —  counterpart  of  himself  in  inflexi- 
bility, —  and  both  were  appendages  of  their  muskets.  He 
was  not  probably  a  sentient  being,  certainly  not  a  conversa- 
tional one.  He  knew  the  length  of  a  stride,  and  the  manual 
of  bayonet  exercise,  but  was,  during  his  natural  life,  a  blind 
idolater  of  a  deity,  called  "  Orders."  The  said  "  Orders," 
for  the  present  evening,  were  walking,  not  talking,  and  he 
was  dumb  to  all  conciliatory  words.  He  took  a  position  at 
one  end  of  my  tent,  and  his  double  at  the  other  end.  They 
carried  their  muskets  at  "  support  arms/'  and  paced  up  and 
down,  measuredly,  like  two  cloaked  and  solemn  ghosts.  I 
wrapped  myself  in  the  damp  blankets,  and  slept  through  the 
bangs  of  four  or  five  court-martials  and  several  executions. 
At  three  o'clock,  they  changed  ramrods,  —  the  old  doppel- 
gangers  going  away,  and  two  new  ones  fulfilling  their 
functions. 


CHAPTER  X. 

AFTER     THE     VICTORY. 

THE  two  ramrods  were  still  pacing  to  and  fro,  when  I 
aroused  in  the  gray  of  the  morning  ;  but  they  looked  very 
misty  and  moist,  as  if  they  were  impalpables  that  were 
shortly  to  evaporate.  The  Major  poked  his  head  between 
the  flaps  at  eight  o'clock,  and  said  that  breakfast  was  ready ; 
but  the  ramrod  nearest  me  kept  vigilantly  alongside,  and  I 
thought  he  had  been  invited  also.  The  other  ramrod 
guarded  the  empty  tent,  and  I  think  that  he  believed  me  a 
droppel-ganger  likewise. 

I  wondered  what  was  to  be  done  with  me,  as  the  hours 
slipped  rapidly  by.  The  guards  were  relieved  again  at  ten 
o'clock,  and  Quartermaster's  men  commenced  to  take  down 
the  tents.  Camps  were  to  be  moved,  and  I  inquired  solici- 
tously if  I  was  to  be  moved  also.  The  Major  replied  that 
prisoners  were  commonly  made  to  walk  along  the  road,  es- 
corted by  horsemen,  and  I  imagined,  with  dread,-the  com- 
panionship of  negroes,  estrays,  ragged  Confederates,  and 
such  folk,  while  the  whole  army  should  witness  my  degra- 
dation. Finally,  all  the  tents  were  lifted  and  packed  in 
wagons,  as  well  as  the  furniture.  I  adhered  to  a  stool,  at 
which  the  teamster  looked  wistfully,  and  the  implacable 
sentinels  walked  to  and  fro.  A  rumor  became  current 
among  the  private  soldiers,  that  I  was  the  nephew  of  the 
southern  General  Lee,  whose  wife  had  been  meantime  cap- 
tured at  Hanover  Court  House.  Curious  groups  sauntered 
9*  (ion 


102  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

around  me,  and  talked  behind  their  hands.  One  man  was 
overheard  to  say  that  I  had  fought  desperately,  and  cov- 
ered myself  with  glory,  and  another  thought  that  I  favored 
my  uncle  somewhat,  and  might  succeed  to  his  military 
virtues. 

"  I  guess  I'll  take  that  cheer,  if  you  ain't  got  no  objec- 
tion," said  the  teamster,  and  he  slung  it  into  the  wagon. 
What  to  do  now  troubled  me  materially  ;  but  one  of  the  sol- 
diers brought  a  piece  of  rail,  and  I  "squatted"  lugubriously 
on  the  turf. 

"  If  you  ever  get  to  Richmond,"  said  I,  "  you  shall  be 
considerately  treated."  (Profound  sensation.) 

"  Thankee  !  "  replied  the  man,  touching  his  cap  ;  "  but 
I'm  worry  well  pleased  out  o'  Richmond,  Captain." 

Here  the  Major  was  seen  approaching,  a  humorous  smile 
playing  about  his  eyes. 

"  You  are  discharged,"  said  he  ;  "  General  Marcy  will 
return  your  pass,  and  perhaps  your  papers." 

I  wrung  his  hand  with  indescribable  relief,  and  he  sent 
the  "  ramrod  "  on  guard,  to  saddle  my  horse.  In  a  few 
minutes,  I  was  mounted  again,  much  to  the  surprise  of  the 
observers  of  young  Lee,  and  directly  I  stood  before  the 
kindly  Chief  of  Staff.  At  my  request,  he  wrote  a  note  to 
the  division  commander,  specifying  my  good  behavior,  and 
restoring  to  me  all  privileges  and  immunities.  He  said 
nothing  whatever  as  to  the  mistake  in  the  papers,  and  told 
me  that,  on  special  occasions,  I  might  keep  with  advances, 
by  procuring  an  extraordinary  pass  at  head-quarters.  In 
short,  my  arrest  conduced  greatly  to  my  efficiency.  I  inva- 
riably carried  my  Richmond  despatches  to  General  Marcy, 
thereafter,  and,  if  there  was  information  of  a  legitimate  de- 
scription, he  gave  me  the  benefit  of  it. 

My  own  brigade  lay  at  Dr.  Gaines's  house,  during  this 
time,  and  we  did  not  lack  for  excitement.  Just  behind  the 
house  lay  several  batteries  of  rifled  guns,  and  these  threw 
shells  at  hourly  intervals,  at  certain  Confederate  batteries 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  103 

across  the  river.  The  distance  was  two  miles  or  less  ;  but 
the  firing  was  generally  wretched.  Crowds  of  soldiers  gath- 
ered around,  to  watch  the  practice,  and  they  threw  up  their 
hats  applaudingly  at  successful  hits.  Occasionally  a  great 
round  shot  would  bound  up  the  hill,  and  a  boy,  one  day,  see- 
ing one  of  these  spent  balls  rolling  along  the  ground,  put 
out  his  foot  to  stop  it,  but  shattered  his  leg  so  dreadfully 
that  it  had  to  be  amputated.  Dr.  Gaines  was  a  rich,  aristo- 
cratic, and  indolent  old  Virginian,  whose  stables,  summer- 
houses,  orchards,  and  negro-quarters  were  the  finest  in 
their  district.  The  shooting  so  annoyed  him  that  he  used  to 
resort  to  the  cellar ;  several  shots  passed  through  his 
roof,  and  one  of  the  chimneys  was  knocked  off.  His  family 
carriages  were  five  in  number,  and  as  his  stables  were 
turned  i.:to  hospitals,  these  were  all  hauled  into  his  lawn, 
where  their  obsolete  trimmings  and  queer  shape  constantly 
amused  the  soldiers.  About  this  time  I  became  acquainted 
with  some  officers  of  the  5th  Maine  regiment,  and  by  permis- 
sion, accompanied  them  to  Mechanicsville.  I  was  here,  on 
the  afternoon  of  Thursday,  May  27,  when  the  battle  of  Han- 
over Court  House  was  fought.  We  heard  the  rapid  growl 
of  guns,  and  continuous  volleys  of  musketrj',  though  the 
place  was  fourteen  miles  distant.  At  evening,  a  report  was 
current  that  the  Federals  had  gained  a  great  victory,  and 
captured  seven  hundred  prisoners.  The  truth  of  this  was 
established  next  morning ;  for  detachments  of  prisoners 
were  from  time  to  time  brought  in,  and  the  ambulances 
came  to  camp,  laden  with  the  wounded.  I  took  this  oppor- 
tunity of  observing  the  Confederate  soldiers,  as  they  lay  at 
the  Provost  quarters,  in  a  roped  pen,  perhaps  one  hundred 
rods  square. 

It  was  evening,  as  I  hitched  my  horse  to  a  stake  near-by, 
and  pressed  up  to  the  receptacle  for  the  unfortunates. 
Sentries  enclosed  the  pen,  walking  to-and-fro  with  loaded 
muskets;  a  throng  of  officers  and  soldiers  had  assembled  to 
gratify  their  curiosity  ;  and  new  detachments  of  captives 
came  iu  hourly,  encircled  by  sabremen,  the  Southerners 


104  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    XOX-CO3H5ATANT. 

being  disarmed  and  on  foot.  The  scene  within  the  area 
was  ludicrously  moving1.  It  reminded  me  of  the  witch-scene 
in  Macbeth,  or  pictures  of  brigands  or  Bohemian  gypsies  at 
rendezvous,  not  less  than  five  hundred  men,  in  motley, 
ragged  costumes,  with  long  hair,  and  lean,  wild,  haggard 
faces,  were  gathered  in  groups  or  in  pairs,  around  some 
fagot  fires.  In  the  growing  darkness  their  expressions 
were  imperfectly  visible  ;  but  I  could  see  that  most  of  them 
were  weary,  and  hungry,  and  all  were  depressed  and 
ashamed.  Some  were  wrapped  in  blankets  of  rag-carpet, 
and  others  wore  shoes  of  rough,  untanned  hide.  Others 
were  without  either  shoes  or  jackets,  and  their  heads  were 
bound  with  red  handkerchiefs.  Some  appeared  in  red 
shirts ;  some  in  stiff  beaver  hats ;  some  were  attired  in 
shreds  and  patches  of  cloth ;  and  a  few  wore  the  soiled 
garments  of  citizen  gentlemen ;  'but  the  mass  adhered  to 
homespun  suits  of  gray,  or  "butternut,"  and  the  coarse 
blue  kersey  common  to  slaves.  In  places  I  caught  glimpses 
of  red  Zouave  breeches  and  leggings  ;  blue  Federal  caps, 
Federal  buttons,  or  Federal  blouses  ;  these  were  the  spoils 
of  anterior  battles,  and  had  been  stripped  from  the  slain. 
Most  of  the  captives  were  of  the  appearances  denominated 
"  scraggy  "  or  "  knotty."  They  were  brown,  brawny,  and 
wiry,  and  their  countenances  were  intense,  fierce,  and  ani- 
mal. They  came  from  North  Carolina,  the  poorest  and 
least  enterprising  Southern  State,  and  ignorance,  with  its 
attendant  virtues,  were  the  common  facial  manifestations. 
Some  lay  on  the  bare  ground,  fast  asleep ;  others  chatted 
nervously  as  if  doubtful  of  their  future  treatment ;  a  few 
were  boisterous,  and  anxious  to  beg  tobacco  or  coffee  from 
idle  Federals ;  the  rest  —  and  they  comprehended  the 
greater  number  —  were  silent,  sullen,  and  vindictive.  They 
met  curiosity  with  scorn,  and  spite  with  imprecations.  A 
child  —  not  more  than  four  years  of  age,  I  think  —  sat 
sleeping  in  a  corner  upon  an  older  comrade's  lap.  A  gray- 
bearded  pard  was  staunching  a  gash  in  his  cheek  with  the 
tail  of  his  coat.  A  fine-looking  young  fellow  sat  with  his 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  105 

face  in  his  hands,  as  if  his  heart  were  far  off,  and  he  wished 
to  shut  out  this  bitter  scene.  In  a  corner,  lying  morosely 
apart,  were  a  Major,  three  Captains,  and  three  Lieuten- 
ants,—  young  athletic  fellows,  dressed  in  rich  gray  cassi- 
mere,  trimmed  with  black,  and  wearing  soft  black  hats 
adorned  with  black  ostrich-feathers.  Their  spurs  were 
strapped  upon  elegantly  fitting  boots,  and  they  looked  as 
far  above  the  needy,  seedy  privates,  as  lords  above  their 
vassals. 

After  a  time,  couples  and  squads  of  the  prisoners  were 
marched  oif  to  cut  and  carry  some  firewood,  and  water, 
for  the  use  of  their  pen,  and  then  each  Confederate  received 
coffee,  pork,  and  crackers ;  they  were  obliged  to  prepare 
their  own  meals,  but  some  were  so  hungry  that  they  gnawed 
the  raw  pork,  like  beasts  of  prey.  Those  who  were  not 
provided  with  blankets,  shivered  through  the  night,  though 
the  rain  was  falling,  and  the  succession  of  choking  coughs 
that  ran  through  the  ranks,  told  how  ill  they  could  afford 
the  exposure.  Major  Willard  had  charge  of  these  men, 
and  he  sent  a  young  officer  to  get  me  admittance  to  the  pen, 
that  I  might  speak  with  them. 

"  Good  evening,  Major,"  I  said,  to  the  ranking  Confed- 
erate officer,  and  extended  my  hand.  He  shook  it,  embar- 
rassedly,  and  ran  me  over  with  his  eye,  as  if  to  learn  my 
avocation.  "  Can  I  obtain  any  facts  from  you/'  I  con- 
tinued, "  as  to  the  battle  of  Hanover  ?  " 

"Fuh  what  puhpose?"  he  said,  in  his  strong  southern 
dialect. 

"  For  publication,  sir." 

He  sat  up  at  once,  and  said  that  he  should  be  happy  to 
tell  me  anything  that  would  not  be  a  violation  of  military 
honor.  I  asked  him,  therefore,  the  Confederate  Command- 
ant at  Hanover,  the  number  of  brigades,  regiments,  and 
batteries  engaged,  the  disposition  of  forces,  the  character 
of  the  battle,  and  the  losses,  so  far  as  he  knew,  upon  his 
own  side.  Much  of  this  he  revealed,  but  unguardedly  let 


10G  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NON-COMBATANT. 

out  other  matters,  that  direct  inquiry  could  not  have  dis- 
covered. I  took  notes  of  the  legitimate  passages,  trusting 
to  memory  for  the  rest ;  and  think  that  I  possessed  his  whole 
stock  of  information,  in  the  course  of  an  hour's  manoeu- 
vring. It  seemed  that  General  Branch,  formerly  a  member 
of  the  Federal  congress,  had  been  sent  with  some  thousands 
of  Carolina  troops  across  the  upper  Chickahominy,  to  see 
if  it  would  not  be  possible  to  turn  the  Federal  right,  and 
cut  off  one  of  its  brigades ;  but  a  stronger  Federal  recon- 
noissance  had  gone  northward  the  day  before,  and  discov- 
ering Branch's  camp-fires,  sent,  during  the  night,  for  rein- 
forcements. In  the  end,  the  "  North  State  "  volunteers  were 
routed,  their  cannon  silenced  or  broken,  and  seven  hundred 
of  their  number  captured.  The  Federals  lost  a  large  num- 
ber of  men  killed,  and  the  wounded  upon  both  sides,  were 
numerous. 

The  Confederate  Major  was  of  the  class  referred  to  in  po- 
lite American  parlance,  as  a  "  blatherskite."  Ho  boasted 
after  the  manner  of  his  fellow-citizens  from  the  county  of 
'r  Bunkum,"  but  nevertheless  feared  and  trembled,  to  the 
manifest  disgust  of  one  of  the  young  Captains. 

"  Majuh  !  "  said  this  young  man,  "  what  you  doin'  thali ! 
That  fellow's  makin'  notes  of  all  your  slack ;  keep  your 
tongue  !  aftah  awhile  you'll  tell  the  nombah  of  the  foces  ! 
Don't  you  s'pose  he'll  prent  it  all  ?  " 

The  Major  had,  in  fact,  been  telling  me  how  many  regi- 
ments the  "  old  Nawth  State,  suh,"  had  furnished  to  the 
"  suhvice,"  and  Iliad  the  names  of  some  thirty  colonels, 
in  order.  The  young  Captain  gave  me  a  sketch  of  General 
Branch,  and  was  anxious  that  I  should  publish  something 
in  extenuation  of  North  Carolina  valor. 

"  We  have  lost  mo'  men,"  said  he,  "  than  any  otha'  Com- 
monwealth ;  but  these  Vuhginians,  whose  soil,  by ! 

suh,  we  defend  suh  !  Yes,  suh !  whose  soil  we  defend  ; 
these  Vuhginians,  stigmatize  us  as  cowads  !  We,  suh  I 
yes  suh,  we,  that  nevah  wanted  to  leave  the  Union,  —  ive 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  107 

coivads !  Look  at  ou'  blood,  suh,  ou'  blood  !  That's  it, 
by !  look  at  that  1  shed  on  every  field  of  the  ole  Do- 
minion, —  killed,  muhdud,  captued,  crippled  !  We  cow- 
ads  !  I  want  you  prent  that !  " 

I  was  able  to  give  each  of  the  officers  a  drop  of  whiskey 
from  my  flask,  and  I  never  saw  msb  drink  so  thirstily. 
Their  hands  and  lips  trembled  as  they  took  it,  and  their 
eyes  shone  like  lunacy,  as  the  hot  drops  sank  to  the  cold 
vitals,  and  pricked  the  frozen  blood.  Mingling  with  the 
privates,  I  stirred  up  some  native  specimens  of  patriotism, 
that  appeared  to  be  in  great  doubt  as  to  the  causes  and  ends 
of  the  war.  They  were  very  much  in  the  political  condi- 
tion of  a  short,  thick,  sententious  man,  in  blue  drilling 
breeches,  who  said  — 

"  Damn  the  country !  What's  to  be  done  with  us?  " 
One  person  said  that  he  enlisted  for  the  honor  of  his 
family,  that  "  fit  in  the  American  Revolution  ;  "  and  another 
came  out  to  "hev  a  squint  et  the  fightin'."  Several  were 
northern  and  foreign  lads,  that  were  working  on  Carolina 
railroads,  and  could  not  leave  the  section,  and  some  labored 
under  the  impression  that  they  were  to  have  a  "  slice"  of 
land  and  a  "  nigger,"  in  the  event  of  Southern  independence. 
A  few  comprehended  the  spirit  of  the  contest,  and  took  up 
arms  from  principle  ;  a  few,  also,  declared  their  enmity  to 
"Yankee  institutions,"  and  had  seized  the  occasion  to 
"  polish  them  off',"  and  "  give  them  a  ropein'  in  ;  "  but  many 
said  it  was  "  dull  in  our  deestreeks,  an'  the  niggers  was 
runuin'  away,  so  I  thought  I'ud  jine  the  foces."  The 
great  mass  said,  that  they  never  contemplated  "this  box," 
or  "  this  fix,"  or  "  these  suckemstances,"  and  all  wanted  the 
war  to  close,  that  they  might  return  to  their  families. 
Indeed,  my  romantic  ideas  of  rebellion  were  ruthlessly 
profaned  and  dissipated.  I  knew  that  there  was  ranch  sel- 
fishness, peculation,  and  '<Hessianism"  in  the  Federal 
lines,  but  I  had  imagined  a  lofty  patriotism,  a  dignified 
purpose,  and  an  inflexible  love  of  personal  liberty  among^ 


108  CAMPAIGNS   OF  A   NON-COMBATANT. 

the  Confederates.  Yet  here  were  men  who  knew  little  of 
the  principles  for  which  they  staked  their  lives ;  —  who 
enlisted  from  the  commonest  motives  of  convenience,  whim, 
pelf,  adventure,  and  foray ;  and  who  repented,  after  their 
first  misfortune,  with  the  salt  rheum  in  their  eyes.  I  think 
that  all  "  great  uprisings "  resolve  to  this  complexion. 
With  due  reverence  for  my  own  ancestry,  I  think  that  they 
sometimes  stooped  from  greatness  to  littleness.  I  must 
confess  that  certain  admissions  in  my  revolutionary  text- 
book are  much  clearer,  now  that  I  have  followed  a  cam- 
paign. And  if,  as  I  had  proposed,  I  could  have  witnessed 
the  further  fortunes  of  the  illustrious  Garibaldi,  I  think  that 
some  of  his  compatriots  would  have  been  found  equally 
inconsistent.  Let  no  man  believe  that  the  noblest  cause  is 
fought  out  alone  by  the  unerring  motives  of  duty  and  devo- 
tion. The  masses  are  never  so  constant.  They  cannot 
appreciate  an  abstraction,  however  divine.  Any  of  the 
gentlemen  in  question  would  have  preferred  their  biscuit 
and  fat  pork  before  the  political  enfranchisement  of  the 
whole  world ! 

I  rode  across  the  fields  to  the  Hogan,  Curtis,  and  Gaines 
mansions ;  for  some  of  the  wounded  had  meantime  been 
deposited  in  each  of  them.  All  the  cow-houses,  wagon- 
sheds,  hay-barracks,  hen-coops,  negro  cabins,  and  barns 
were  turned  into  hospitals.  The  floors  were  littered  with 
"corn-shucks"  and  fodder;  and  the  maimed,  gashed,  and 
dying  lay  confusedly  together.  A  few,  slightly  wounded, 
stood  at  windows,  relating  incidents  of  the  battle ;  but  at 
the  doors  sentries  stood  with  crossed  muskets,  to  keep  out 
idlers  and  gossips.  The  mention  of  my  vocation  was  an 
"  open  sesame,"  and  I  went  unrestrained,  into  all  the  larg- 
est hospitals.  In  the  first  of  these  an  amputation  was  being 
performed,  and  at  the  door  lay  a  little  heap  of  human  fin- 
gers, feet,  legs,  and  arms.  I  shall  not  soon  forget  the 
bare-armed  surgeons,  with  bloody  instruments,  that  leaned 
over  the  rigid  and  insensible  figure,  while  the  comrades  of 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT.  109 

the  subject  looked  horrifiedly  at  the  scene.  The  grating  of 
the  murderous  saw  drove  me  into  the  open  air,  but  in  the 
second  hospital  which  I  visited,  a  wounded  man  had  just 
expired,  and  I  encountered  his  body  at  the  threshold. 
Within,  the  sickening  smell  of  mortality  was  almost  insup- 
portable, but  by  degrees  I  became  accustomed  to  it.  The 
lanterns  hanging  around  the  room  streamed  fitfully  upon  the 
red  eyes,  and  half-naked  figures.  All  were  looking  up,  and 
saying,  in  pleading  monotone:  "Is  that  you,  doctor?" 
Men  with  their  arms  in  slings  went  restlessly  up  and  down, 
smarting  with  fever.  Those  who  were  wounded  in  the 
lower  extremities,  body,  or  head,  lay  upon  their  backs, 
tossing  even  in  sleep.  They  listened  peevishly  to  the  wind 
whistling  through  the  chinks  of  the  barn.  They  followed 
one  with  their  rolling  eyes.  They  turned  away  from  the 
lantern,  for  it  seemed  to  sear  them.  Soldiers  sat  by  the 
severely  wounded,  laving  their  sores  with  water.  In  many 
wounds  the  balls  still  remained,  and  the  discolored  flesh  was 
swollen  unnaturally.  There  were  some  who  had  been  shot 
in  the  bowels,  and  now  and  then  they  were  frightfully  con- 
vulsed, breaking  into  shrieks  and  shouts.  Some  of  them 
iterated  a  single  word,  as,  "  doctor,"  or  "  help/'  or  "  God," 
or  "  oh  !  "  commencing  with  a  loud  spasmodic  cry,  and  con- 
tinuing the  same  word  till  it  died  away  in  cadence.  The 
act  of  calling  seemed  to  lull  the  pain.  Many  were  uncon- 
scious and  lethargic,  moving  their  fingers  and  lips  mechan- 
ically, but  never  more  to  open  their  eyes  upon  the  light ; 
they  were  already  going  through  the  valley  and  the  shadow. 
I  think,  still,  with  a  shudder,  of  the  faces  of  those  who  were 
told  mercifully  that  they  could  not  live.  The  unutterable 
agony  ;  the  plea  for  somebody  on  whom  to  call ;  the  longing 
eyes  that  poured  out  prayers  ;  the  looking  on  mortal  as  if 
its  resources  were  infinite  ;  the  fearful  looking  to  the  immor- 
tal as  if  it  were  so  far  off,  so  implacable,  that  the  dying 
appeal  would  be  in  vain ;  the  open  lips,  through  which  one 
could  almost  look  at  the  quaking  heart  below ;  the  ghastli- 
10 


11!)  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NOX-COMBATAXT. 

ness  of  brow  and  tangled  hair ;  the  closing  pangs ;  the 
awful  quietus.  I  thought  of  Parrhasius,  in  the  poem,  as  I 
looked  at  these  things  :  — 

"Gods! 
Could  I  but  paint  a  dying  groan ." 

And  how  the  keen  eye  of  West  would  have  turned  from 
the  reeking  cockpit  of  the  Victory,  or  the  tomb  of  the  Dead 
Man  Restored,  to  this  old  barn,  peopled  with  horrors.  I 
rambled  in  and  out,  learning  to  look  at  death,  studying  the 
manifestations  of  pain,  —  quivering  and  sickening  at  times, 
but  plying  my  avocation,  and  jotting  the  names  for  my 
column  of  mortalities. 

-  At  eleven  o'clock  there  was  music  along  the  high-road, 
and  a  general  rushing  from  camps.  The  victorious  regi- 
ments were  returning  from  Hanover,  under  escort,  and  all 
the  bands  were  pealing  national  airs.  As  they  turned  down 
the  fields  towards  their  old  encampments,  the  several  brig- 
ades stood  under  arms  to  welcome  them,  and  the  cheers 
were  many  and  vigorous.  But  the  solemn  ambulances  still 
followed  after,  and  the  red  flag  of  the  hospitals  flaunted 
bloodily  in  the  blue  midnight. 

Both  the  prisoners  and  the  wounded  were  removed  be- 
tween midnight  and  morning  to  White  House,  and  as  I  had 
despatches  to  forward  by  the  mail-boat,  I  rode  down  in  an 
ambulance,  that  contained  six  wounded  men  besides.  The 
wounded  were  to  be  consigned  to  hospital  boats,  and  for- 
warded to  hospitals  in  northern  cities,  and  the  prisoners 
were  to  be  placed  in  a  transport,  under  guard,  and  conveyed 
to  Fort  Delaware,  near  Philadelphia. 

Ambulances,  it  may  be  said,  incidentally,  are  either  two- 
wheeled  or  four-wheeled.  Two-wheeled  ambulances  are 
commonly  called  "hop,  step,  and  jumps."  They  are  so  con- 
structed that  the  forepart  is  either  very  high  or  very  low, 
and  may  be  both  aj^intervals.  The  wounded  occupants  may 
be  compelled  to  ride  for  hours  in  these  carriages,  with  their 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-CQMBATANT.  Ill 

heels  elevated  above  their  heads,  and  may  finally  be  shaken 
out,  or  have  their  bones  broken  by  the  terrible  jolting.     The 
four-wheeled  ambulances  are  built  in  shelves,  or  compart- 
ments, but  the  wounded  are  in  danger  of  being  smothered  in 
them.     It  was  in  one  of  these  latter  that  I  rode,  sitting  with 
the  driver.    We  had  four  horses,  but  were  thrice  "swamped" 
on  the  road,  and  had  to  take  out  the  wounded  men  once,  till 
we   could    start  the    wheels.      Two   of   these   men    were 
wounded  in  the  face,  one  of  them  having  his  nose  completely 
severed,  and  the  other  having  a  fragment  of  his  jaw  knocked 
out.      A  third  had  received  a  ball  among-  the  thews  and 
muscles  behind  his  knee,  and  his  whole  body  appeared  to  be 
paralyzed.     Two  were  wounded  in  the  shoulders,  and  the 
sixth  was  shot  in  the  breast,  and  was  believed  to  be  injured 
inwardly,  as  he  spat  blood,  and  suffered  almost  the  pain  of 
death.     The  ride  with  these  men,  over  twenty  miles  of  hilly, 
woody  country,  was  like  one  of  Dante's  excursions  into  the 
Shades.     In  the   awful   stillness  of  the  dark   pines,  their 
screams   frightened   the    hooting   owls,    and   the   whirring 
insects   in  the   leaves   and   tree-tops   quieted  their  songs. 
They  heard  the  gurgle  of  the  rills,   and  called  aloud  for 
water  to  quench  their  insatiate  thirst.     One  of  them  sang  a 
shrill,  fierce,  fiendish  ballad,  in  an  interval  of  relief,  but 
plunged,  at  a  sudden  relapse,  in  prayers  and  curses.     "We 
heard  them  groaning  to  themselves,  as  we  sat  in  front,  and 
one  man,  it  seemed,  was  quite  out  of  his  mind.     These  were 
the  outward  manifestations  ;  but  what  chords  trembled  and 
smarted  within,  we  could  only  guess.     What  regrets  for 
good  resolves  unfulfilled,  and  remorse  for  years  misspent, 
made  hideous  these  sore  and  panting  hearts  ?     The  moon- 
light pierced  through  the  thick  foliage  of  the  wood,  and 
streamed  into  our  faces,  like  invitations  to  a  better  life. 
But  the  crippled  and  bleeding  could  not  see  or  feel  it, — 
buried  in  the  shelves  of  the  ambulance. 


CHAPTEE   XI. 

BALLOON  BATTLES. 

SOME  days  ago,  as  I  was  sitting  in  Central  Park,  under  a 
tree  no  bigger  than  Jonah's  gourd,  broiling  nicely  brown, 
and  seasoning  the  process  by  reading  what  the  lesser  week- 
lies said  about  me,  I  saw  at  the  Park  gate  a  great  phantasm, 
like  a  distended  sausage,  swaying  to  and  fro  as  if  striving 
to  burst,  and  directly  the  horrible  thing  blew  upwards,  spill- 
ing all  the  stuffing  from  the  case. 

1  saw  in  a  moment  that  the  apparition  was  a  balloon,  and 
that  the  aeronaut  was  only  emptying  ballast. 

Straight  toward  me  the  floating  vessel  came,  so  close  to 
the  ground  that  I  could  hear  the  silk  crackle  and  the  ropes 
creak,  till,  directly,  a  man  leaned  over  the  side  and 
shouted  — 

"  Is  that  you,  Townsend  ?  " 

"  Hallo,  Lowe  !  " 

"  I  want  you  to  get  on  your  feet  and  be  spry  about  it: 
we  have  a  literary  party  here,  and  wish  you  to  write  it  up. 
I'll  let  one  bag  of  ballast  go,  as  we  touch  the  grass,  and 
you  must  leap  in  simultaneously.  Thurnp  !  " 

Here  the  car  collided  with  the  ground,  and  in  another 
instant,  I  found  quantities  of  dirt  spilled  down  my  back,  and 
two  or  three  people  lying  beneath  me.  The  world  slid 
away,  and  the  clouds  opened  to  receive  me.  Lowe  was 
opening  a  bottle  of  Heidsick,  and  three  or  four  gentlemen 
with  heads  sick  were  unclosing  the  petals  of  their  lips  to  get 
the  afternoon  dew. 

(112) 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT.  113 

These  were  the  various  critics  and  fugitive  -writers  of  the 
weekly  and  daily  press.  They  looked  as  if  they  wanted  to 
put  each  other  over  the  side  of  the  car,  but  smothered 
their  invective  at  my  advent,  as  if  I  were  so  much  pearl- 
ash. 

It  was  just  seven  o'clock,  and  the  Park  lay  like  a  veined 
and  mottled  blood-stone  in  the  red  sunset.  The  city  wilted 
to  the  littleness  of  a  rare  mosaic  pin,  its  glittering  point 
parting  the  blue  scarf  of  the  bay,  and  the  white  bosom  of 
the  ocean  swelling  afar,  all  draped  with  purple  clouds  like 
golden  hair,  in  which  the  entangled  gems  were  the  sails  of 
the  white  ships. 

I  said  this  aloud,  and  all  the  party  drew  their  lead  pen- 
cils. They  forgot  the  occasion  in  my  eloquence,  and  wanted 
to  report  me. 

Just  here,  I  drew  a  field-glass  from  the  aeronaut,  and  re- 
connoitred the  streets  of  the  city. "  To  my  dismay  there  was 
nobody  visible  c^h  Broadway  but  gentlemen.  I  called  every- 
body's attention  to  the  fact,  and  it  was  accounted  for  on  the 
supposition  that  the  late  bank  forgeries  and  defalcations, 
growing  out  of  the  extravagance  of  womankind,  had 
prompted  all  the  husbands  to  make  of  their  homes  nun- 
neries. 

We  observed,  however,  close  by  every  gentleman,  some- 
thing that  resembled  a  black  dog  with  his  tail  curled  over 
his  back. 

"  Stuff!  "  said  one,  "  they're  hay  wagons." 

"  No  !  "  cried  Lowe,  "  they're  nothing  of  the  sort ;  they 
are  waterfalls,  and  the  ladies  are,  of  course,  invisible  under 
them." 

We  accepted  the  explanation,  and  thought  the  trip  very 
melancholy.  No  landscape  is  complete  without  a  woman. 
Very  soon  we  struck  the  great  polar  current,  and  passed 
Harlem  river ;  the  foliage  of  the  trees,  by  some  strange 
anomaly,  began  to  ascend  towards  us,  but  Lowe  caught  two 
10* 


114  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   RON-COMBATANT* 

or  three  of  the  supposed  leaves,  and  they  proved  to  be  green- 
backs. 

There  was  at  once  a  tremendous  sensation  in  the  car  ;  we 
knew  that  we  were  on  the  track  of  Ketchum  and  his  carpet- 
bag of  bank-notes. 

"  Is  there  any  reward  out  ?  "  cried  Lowe. 

"Not  yet!" 

v<  Then  we  won't  pursue  him." 

As  we  slowly  drifted  to  the  left,  the  Hudson  shone  through 
the  trees,  and  before  dusk  we  swept  across  Lake  Mahopec. 
1  heard  a  voice  singing  to  the  dip  of  oars,  and  had  to  be  held 
down  by  five  men  to  restrain  an  involuntary  impulse  to  quit 
my  company. 

"  Townsend/7  said  Lowe,  "  have  you  the  copy  of  that  mat- 
ter you  printed  about  me  in  England  ?  This  is  the  time  to 
call  you  to  account  for  it.  We  are  two  or  three  miles  above 
terra  firma,  and  I  might  like  to  drop  you  for  a  parachute." 

I  felt  Lowe's  muscle,  and  knew  myself  secure.  Then  I 
unrolled  the  pages,  which  I  fortunately  carried  with  me, 
and  told  him  the  following  news  about  himself:  — 

The  aeronaut  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  Mr.  S.  T. 
C.  Lowe  ;  he  had  made  seven  thousand  ascensions,  and  his 
army  companion  was  invariably  either  an  artist,  a  corre- 
spondent, or  a  telegrapher. 

A  minute  insulated  wire  reached  from  the  car  to  head- 
quarters, and  McClellan  was  thus  informed  of  all  that  could 
be  seen  within  the  Confederate  works.  Sometimes  they  re- 
mained aloft  for  hours,  making  observations  with  powerful 
glasses,  and  once  or  twice  the  enemy  tested  their  distance 
with  shell. 

On  the  13th  of  April,  the  Confederates  sent  up  a  balloon, 
the  first  they  had  employed,  at  which  Lowe  was  infinitely 
amused.  He  said  that  it  had  neither  shape  nor  buoyancy, 
and  predicted  that  it  would  burst  or  fall  apart  after  a  week. 
It  certainly  occurred  that,  after  a  few  fitful  appearances,  the 
stranger  was  seen  no  more,  till,  on  the  28th  of  June,  it 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   XOX-COMBATAXT.  115 

floated,  like  a  thing  of  omen,  over  the  spires  of  Richmond. 
At  that  time  the  Federals  were  in  full  retreat,  and  all  the 
acres  were  covered  with  their  dead. 

On  the  llth  of  April,  at  five  o'clock,  an  event  at  once 
amusing  and  thrilling  occurred  at  our  quarters.  The  com- 
mander-in-chief  had  appointed  his  personal  and  confidential 
friend,  General  Fitz  John  Porter,  to  conduct  the  siege  of 
Yorktown.  Porter  was  a  polite,  soldierly  "gentleman,  and 
a  native  of  New  Hampshire,  who  had  been  in  the  regular 
army  since  early  manhood.  He  fought  gallantly  in  the 
Mexican  war,  being  thrice  promoted  and  once  seriously 
wounded,  and  he  was  now  forty  years  of  age,  —  handsome, 
enthusiastic,  ambitious,  and  popular.  He  made  frequent 
ascensions  with  Lowe,  and  learned  to  go  aloft  alone.  One 
day  ho  ascended  thrice,  and  finally  seemed  as  cosily  at 
home  in  the  firmament  as  upon  the  solid  earth.  It  is  need- 
less to  say  that  he  grew  careless,  and  on  this  particular 
morning  leaped  into  the  car  and  demanded  the  cables  to  be 
let  out  with  all  speed.  I  saw  with  some  surprise  that  the 
flurried  assistants  were  sending  up  the  great  straining  can- 
vas with  a  single  rope  attached.  The  enormous  bag  was 
only  partiall3T  inflated,  and  the  loose  folds  opened  and  shut 
with  a  crack  like  that  of  a  musket.  Noisily,  fitfully,  the 
yellow  mass  rose  into  the  sky,  the  basket  rocking  like  a 
feather  in  the  zephyr ;  and  just  as  I  turned  aside  to  speak 
to  a  comrade,  a  sound  came  from  overhead,  like  the  explo- 
sion of  a  shell,  and  something  striking  me  across  the  face 
laid  me  flat  upon  the  ground. 

Half  blind  and  stunned,  I  staggered  to  my  feet,  but  the 
air  seemed  full  of  cries  and  curses.  Opening  my  eyes  rue- 
fully, I  saw  all  faces  turned  upwards,  and  when  I  looked 
above,  —  the  balloon  was  adrift. 

The  treacherous  cable,  rotted  with  vitriol,  had  snapped  in 
twain  ;  one  fragment  had  been  the  cause  of  my  downfall, 
and  the  other  trailed,  like  a  great  entrail,  from  the  receding 
car,  where  Fitz  John  Porter  was  bounding  upward  upon  a 
Pegasus  that  he  could  neither  check  nor  direct. 


110  CAMPAIGNS   OF  A   NON-COMBATANT. 

The  whole  army  was  agitated  by  the  unwonted  occur- 
rence. From  battery  No.  I/  on  the  brink  of  the  York,  to 
the  mouth  of  Warwick  river,  every  soldier  and  officer  was 
absorbed.  Far  within  the  Confederate  lines  the  confusion 
extended.  We  heard  the  enemy's  alarm-guns,  and  directly 
the  signal  flags  were  waving  up  and  down  our  front. 

The  General  appeared  directly  over  the  edge  of  the  car. 
He  was  tossing  his  hands  frightenedly,  and  shouting  some- 
thing that  we  could  not  comprehend. 

"0  —  pen  —  the — valve!"  called  Lowe,  in  his  shrill 
tones  ;  "  climb  —  to  —  the  •*-  netting  —  and  —  reach  —  the 
—  valve  —  rope." 

"The  valve! — the  valve!"  repeated  a  multitude  of 
tongues,  and  all  gazed  with  thrilling  interest  at  the  retreat- 
ing hulk  that  still  kept  straight  upward,  swerving  neither  to 
the  east  nor  the  west. 

It  was  a  weird  spectacle,  —  that  frail,  fading  oval,  gliding 
against  the  sky,  floating  in  the  serene  azure,  the  little  ves- 
sel swinging  silently  beneath,  and  a  hundred  thousand  mar- 
tial men  watching  the  loss  of  their  brother  in  arms,  but 
powerless  to  relieve  or  recover  him.  Had  Fitz  John  Porter 
been  drifting  down  the  rapids  of  Niagara,  he  could  not  have 
been  so  far  from  human  assistance.  But  we  saw  him  di- 
rectly, no  bigger  than  a  child's  toy,  clambering  up  the  net- 
ting and  reaching  for  the  cord. 

"  He  can't  do  it,"  muttered  a  man  beside  me  ;  "  the  wind 
blows  the  valve-rope  to  and  fro,  and  only  a  spry,  cool- 
headed  fellow  can  catch  it." 

We  saw  the  General  descend,  and  appearing  again  over 
the  edge  of  the  basket,  he  seemed  to  be  motioning  to  the 
breathless  hordes  below,  the  story  of  his  failure.  Then  he 
dropped  out  of  sight,  and  when  we  next  saw  him,  he  was 
reconnoitring  the  Confederate  works  through  a  long  black 
spy-glass.  A  great  laugh  went  up  and  down  the  lines  as 
this  cool  procedure  was  observed,  and  then  a  cheer  of  ap- 
plause ran  from  group  to  group.  For  a  moment  it  was 


CAMPAIGNS   OF  A  NON-COMBATANT.  117 

doubtful  that  the  balloon  would  float  in  either  direction  ;  it 
seemed  to  falter,  like  an  irresolute  being,  and  moved  reluct- 
antly southeastward,   towards  Fortress  Monroe.     A  huzza, 
half  uttered,  quivered  on  every  lip.     All  eyes  glistened,  and 
some  were  dim  with  tears  of  joy.     But  the  wayward  can- 
vas now    turned  due  westward,  and   was   blown  rapidly 
toward  the  Confederate  works.     Its  course  was  fitfully  di- 
rect, and  the  wind  seemed  to  veer  often,  as  if  contrary  cur- 
rents, conscious  of  the  opportunity,  were  struggling  for  the 
possession  of  the  daring  navigator.     The  south  wind  held 
mastery  for   awhile,    and  the   balloon  passed  the  Federal 
front  amid  a  howl  of  despair  from  the   soldiery.     It  kept 
right  on,  over  sharpshooters,  rifle-pits,  and  outworks,  and 
finally  passed,  as  if  to  deliver  up  its  freight,  directly  over 
the  heights  of  Yorktown.     The  cool  courage,  either  of  hero- 
ism or  despair,  had  seized  upon  Fitz  John   Porter.      He 
turned  his  black  glass  upon  the  ramparts  and  masked  can- 
non below,  upon  the  remote  camps,  upon  the  beleaguered 
town,  upon  the  guns  of  Gloucester  Point,  and  upon  distant 
Norfolk.     Had  he  been  reconnoitring  from  a  secure  perch 
at  the  tip  of  the  moon,  he  could  not  have  been  more  vigi- 
lant, and  the  Confederates  probably  thought  this  some  Yan- 
kee device  to  peer  into  their  sanctuary  in  despite  of  ball  or 
shell.     None  of  their  great  guns  could  be  brought  to  bear 
upon  the  balloon ;  but  there  were  some  discharges  of  mus- 
ketry that  appeared  to  have  no  effect,  and  finally  even  these 
demonstrations  ceased.      Both  armies  in    solemn  silence 
were  gazing  aloft,  while  the  imperturbable  mariner  contin- 
ued to  spy  out  the  land. 

The  sun  was  now  rising  behind  us,  and  roseate  rays  strug- 
gled up  to  the  zenith,  like  the  arcs  made  by  showery 
bombs.  They  threw  a  hazy  atmosphere  upon  the  balloon, 
and  the  light  shone  through  the  network  like  the  sun 
through  the  ribs  of  the  skeleton  ship  in  the  Ancient  Mari- 
ner. Then,  as  all  looked  agape,  the  air-craft  "  plunged, 
and  tacked,  and  veered,"  and  drifted  rapidly  toward  the 
Federal  lines  again. 


118  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-CO3LB ATANT . 

The  allelujah  that  now  went  up  shook  the  spheres,  and 
when  he  had  regained  our  camp  limits,  the  General  was 
seen  clambering  up  again  to  clutch  the  valve-rope.  This 
time  he  was  successful,  and  the  balloon  fell  like  a  stone,  so 
that  all  hearts  once  more  leaped  up,  and  the  cheers  were 
hushed.  Cavalry  rode  pell-mell  from  several  directions,  to 
reach  the  place  of  descent,  and  the  General's  personal  staff 
galloped  past  me  like  the  wind,  to  be  the  first  at  his  de- 
barkation. I  followed  the  throng  of  soldiery  with  due 
haste,  and  came  up  to  the  horsemen  in  a  few  minutes.  The 
balloon  had  struck  a  canvas  tent  with  great  violence,  felling 
it  as  by  a  bolt,  and  the  General,  unharmed,  had  disentan- 
gled himself  from  innumerable  folds  of  oiled  canvas,  and 
was  now  the  cynosure  of  an  immense  group  of  people. 
While  the  officers  shook  his  hands,  the  rabble  bawled  their 
satisfaction  in  hurrahs,  and  a  band  of  music  marching  up  di- 
rectly, the  throng  on  foot  and  horse  gave  him  a  vociferous 
escort  to  his  quarters. 

Five  miles  east  of  Richmond,  in  the  middle  of  May,  we 
found  the  balloon  already  partially  inflated,  resting  behind  a 
ploughed  hill  that  formed  one  of  a  ridge  or  chain  of  hills, 
bordering  the  Chickahominy.  The  stream  was  only  a  half- 
mile  distant,  but  the  balloon  was  sheltered  from  observation 
by  reason  of  its  position  in  the  hollow. 

Heretofore  the  ascensions  had  been  made  from  remote 
places,  for  there  was  good  reason  to  believe  that  batteries' 
lined  the  opposite  hills ;  but  now,  for  the  first  time,  Lowe 
intended  to  make  an  ascent  whereby  he  could  look  into 
Richmond,  count  the  forts  encirling  it,  and  note  the  number 
and  position,  of  the  camps  that  intervened.  The  balloon 
was  named  the  "  Constitution,"  and  looked  like  a  semi- 
distended  boa-constrictor,  as  it  flapped  with  a  jerking  sound, 
and  shook  its  oiled  and  painted  folds.  It  was  anchored  to 
the  ground  by  stout  ropes  affixed  to  stakes,  and  also  by 
sand-bags  which  hooked  to  its  netting.  The  basket  lay 
alongside  ;  the  generators  were  contained  in  blue  wooden 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NON-COMBATANT.  110 

wagons,  marked  "  U.  S. ;  "  and  the  gas  was  fed  to  the  bal- 
loon through  rubber  and  metallic  pipes.  A  tent  or  two,  a 
quantity  of  vitriol  in  green  and  wicker  carboys,  some 
horses  and  transportation  teams,  and  several  men  that 
assisted  the  inflation,  were  the  only  objects  to  be  remarked. 
As  some  time  was  to  transpire  before  the  arrangements  were 
completed,  I  resorted  to  one  of  the  tents  and  took  a  com- 
fortable nap.  The  "  Professor  "  aroused  me  at  three  o'clock, 
when  I  found  the  canvas  straining  its  bonds,  and  emitting  a 
hollow  sound,  as  of  escaping  gas.  The  basket  was  made 
fast  directly,  the  telescopes  tossed  into  place  ;  the  Professor 
climbed  to  the  side,  holding  by  the  network ;  and  I  coiled 
up  in  a  rope  at  the  bottom. 

"  Stand  by  your  cables,"  he  said,  and  the  bags  of  ballast 
were  at  once  cut  away.  Twelve  men  took  each  a  rope  in 
hand,  and  played  out  slowly,  letting  us  glide  gently  upward. 
The  earth  seemed  to  be  falling  away,  and  we  poised  motion- 
less in  the  blue  ether.  The  tree-tops  sank  downward,  the 
hills  dropped  noiselessly  through  space,  and  directly  the 
Chickahominy  was  visible  beyond  us,  winding  like  a  ribbon 
of  silver  through  the  ridgy  landscape. 

Far  and  wide  stretched  the  Federal  camps.  We  saw 
faces  turned  upwards  gazing  at  our  ascent,  and  heard 
clearly,  as  in  a  vacuum,  the  voices  of  soldiers.  At  every 
second  the  prospect  widened,  the  belt  of  horizon  enlarged, 
remote  farmhouses  came  in  view  ;  the  earth  was  like  a  per- 
fectly flat  surface,  painted  with  blue  woods,  and  streaked 
with  pictures  of  roads,  fields,  fences,  and  streams.  As  we 
climbed  higher,  the  river  seemed  directly  beneath  us,  the 
farms  on  the  opposite  bank  were  plainly  discernible,  and 
Richmond  lay  only  a  little  way  off,  enthroned  on  its  many 
hills,  with  the  James  stretching  white  and  sinuous  from  its 
feet  to  the  horizon.  We  could  see  the  streets,  the  suburbs, 
the  bridges,  the  outlaying  roads,  nay,  the  moving  masses 
of  people.  The  Capitol  sat  white  and  colossal  on  Shockoe 
Hill,  the  dingy  buildings  of  the  Tredegar  works  blackened 


120  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

the  river-side  above,  the  hovels  of  rockets  clustered  at  the 
hither  limits,  and  one  by  one  we  made  out  familiar  hotels, 
public  edifices,  and  vicinities.  The  fortifications  were 
revealed  in  part  only,  for  they  took  the  hue  of  the  soil,  and 
blended  with  it ;  but  many  camps  were  plainly  discernible, 
and  by  means  of  the  glasses  we  separated  tent  from  tent, 
and  hut  from  hut.  The  Confederates  were  seen  running  to 
the  cover  of  the  woods,  that  we  might  not  discover  their 
numbers,  but  we  knew  the  location  of  their  camp-fires  by 
the  smoke  that  curled  toward  us. 

A  panorama  so  beautiful  would  have  been  rare  at  any 
time,  but  this  was  thrice  interesting  from  its  past  and  coming 
associations.  Across  those  plains  the  hordes  at  our  feet 
were  either  to  advance  victoriously,  or  be  driven  eastward 
with  dusty  banners  and  dripping  hands.  Those  white  farm- 
houses were  to  be  receptacles  for  the-  groaning  and  the 
mangled  ;  thousands  were  to  be  received  beneath  the  turf 
of  those  pasture  fields  ;  and  no  rod  of  ground  on  any  side, 
should  not,  sooner  or  later,  smoke  with  the  blood  of  the 
slain. 

"  Guess  I  got  'em  now,  jest  where  I  want  'em,"  said 
Lowe,  with  a  gratified  laugh  ;  "jest  keep  still  as  you  mind 
to,  and  squint  your  eye  through  my  glass,  while  I  make  a 
sketch  of  the  roads  and  the  country.  Hold  hard  there,  and 
anchor  fast !  "  he  screamed  to  the  people  below.  Then  he 
fell  imperturbably  to  work,  sweeping  the  country  with 
his  hawk-eye,  and  escaping  nothing  that  could  contribute 
to  the  completeness  of  his  jotting. 

We  had  been  but  a  few  minutes  thus  poised,  when  close 
below,  from  the  edge  of  a  timber  stretch,  pufied  a  volume 
of  white  smoke.  A  second  afterward,  the  air  quivered  with 
the  peal  of  a  cannon.  A  third,  and  we  heard  the  splitting 
shriek  of  a  shell,  that  passed  a  little  to  our  left,  but  in  exact 
range,  and  burst  beyond  us  in  the  ploughed  field,  heaving 
up  the  clay  as  it  exploded. 

"  Ha !  "  said  Lowe,  "  they  have  got  us  foul !  Haul  in  the 
cables  —  quick  !  "  he  shouted,  in  a  fierce  tone. 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NOX-COMBATAXT.  121 

At  the  same  instant,  the  puff,  the  report,  and  the  shriek 
were  repeated  ;  but  this  time  the  shell  burst  to  our  right  in 
mid-air,  and  scattered  fragments  around  and  below  us. 

"  Another  shot  will  do  our  business,"  said  Lowe,  between 
his  teeth;  "  it  isn't  a  mile,  and  they  have  got  the  range." 

Again  the  puff  and  the  whizzing  shock.  I  closed  my 
eyes,  and  held  my  breath  hard.  The  explosion  was  so  close, 
that  the  pieces  of  shell  seemed  driven  across  my  face,  and 
my  ears  quivered  with  the  sound.  I  looked  at  Lowe,  to  see 
if  ho  was  struck.  He  had  sprung  to  his  feet,  and  clutched 
the  cordage  frantically. 

"  Are  you  pulling  in  there,  you  men  ?  "  he  bellowed,  with 
a  loud  imprecation. 

"  PuC'i  bang  !  whiz-z-z-z  !  splutter  !  "  broke  a  third  shell, 
and  my  heart  was  wedged  in  my  throat. 

I  saw  at  a  glimpse  the  whole  bright  landscape  again.  I 
heard  the  voices  of  soldiers  below,  and  saw  them  running 
across  fields,  fences,  and  ditches,  to  reach  our  anchorage. 
I  saw  some  drummer-boys  digging  in  the  field  beneath  for 
one  of  the  buried  shells.  I  saw  the  waving  of  signal  flags, 
the  commotion  through  the  camps, —  officers  galloping  their" 
horses,  teamsters  whipping  their  mules,  regiments  turning 
out,  drums  beaten,  and  batteries  limbered  up.  I  remarked, 
last  of  all,  the  site  of  the  battery  that  alarmed  us,  and,  by 
a  strange  sharpness  of  sight  and  sense,  believed  that  I  saw 
the  gunners  swabbing,  ramming,  and  aiming  the  pieces. 

"Puff!  bang!  whiz-z-z-z!  splutter!  crash!" 

"  Puff!  bang  !  whiz-z-z-z  !  splutter  !   crash  !  " 

"My  God!"  said  Lowe,  hissing  the  words  slowly  and 
terribly,  "  they  have  opened  upon  us  from  another  battery!  " 

The  scene  seemed  to  dissolve.  A  cold  dew  broke  from 
my  forehead.  I  grew  blind  and  deaf.  I  had  fainted. 

"  Pitch  some  water  in  his  face,"  said  somebody.  "He 
ain't  used  to  it.  Hallo  !  there  he  comes  to." 

I  staggered  to  my  feet.  There  must  have  been  a  thousand 
men  about  us.  They  were  looking  curiously  at  the 
11 


122  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A    NOX-COMBATANT. 

aeronaut  and  me.  The  balloon  lay  fuming1  and  struggling 
on  the  clods. 

"Three  cheers  for  the  Union  bal-loonl"  called  a  little 
fellow  at  my  side. 

"  Hip,  hip  — hoorooar I   hoorooar !    hoorooar 1  " 

"  Tiger-r-r  —  yah  !  whoop  !  " 


CHAPTER  XII. 

SEVEN  PINES   AND   FAIROAKS. 

RETURNING  from  White  House  on  Saturday,  May  29,  I 
heard  the  cannon  of"  Seven  Pines."  The  roar  of  artillery 
came  faintly  upon  the  ear  in  the  dells  and  woods,  but  in  the 
open  stretches  of  country,  or  from  cleared  hill-tops,  I  could 
hear  also  the  volleys  of  musketry.  It  was  the  battle  sound 
that  assured  me  of  bloody  work  ;  for  the  musket,  as  I  had 
learned  by  experience,  was  the  only  certain  signification  of 
battle.  It  is  seldom  brought  into  requisition  but  at  close 
quarters,  when  results  are  intended ;- whereas,  cannon 
may  peal  for  a  fortnight,  and  involve  no  other  destruction 
than  that  of  shell  and  powder.  I  do  not  think  that  any 
throb  of  my  heart  was  unattended  by  some  volley  or  dis- 
charge. Dull,  hoarse,  uninterrupted,  the  whole  afternoon 
was  shaken  by  the  sound.  It  was  with  a  shudder  that  I 
thought  how  every  peal  announced  flesh  and  bone  riven 
asunder.  The  country  people,  on  the  way,  stood  in  their 
side  yards,  anxiously  listening.  Riders  or  teamsters  com- 
ing from  the  field,  were  beset  with  inquiries  ;  but  in  the 
main  they  knew  nothing.  As  I  stopped  at  Baker's  for  din- 
ner, the  concussion  of  the  battle  rattled  our  plates,  and  the 
girls  entirely  lost  their  appetites,  so  that  Grlumley,  who  lis- 
tened and  speculated,  observed  that  the  baby  face  was 
losing  all  the  lines  of  art,  and  was  quite  flat  and  faded  in 
color.  Resuming  our  way,  we  CD  countered  a  sallow,  shab- 
by person,  driving  a  covered  wagon,  who  recognized  me 

(123) 


124  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

at  once.  It  was  the  "Doctor"  who  had  lightened  the 
journey  down  the  Chesapeake,  by  a  discourse  upon  em- 
balming. He  pointed  toward  the  field  with  a  long  bony 
finger,  and  called  aloud,  with  a  smirk  upon  his  face  — 

"  I  have  the  apparatus  here,  you  see.  They  will  need 
me  out  yonder,  you  know.  There's  opportunity  there  for 
the  development  of  the  '  system.' ' 

I  did  not  reach  my  own  camp  at  Gaines's  Farm,  till  late 
in  the  day.  The  firing  had  almost  entirely  ceased,  but 
occasional  discharges  still  broke  the  repose  of  evening, 
and  at  night  signal  rockets  hissed  and  showered  in  every 
direction.  Next  day  the  contest  recommenced  ;  but  although 
not  farther  in  a  direct  line,  than  seven  miles,  from  our  en- 
campment, I  could  not  cross  the  Chickahominy,  and  was 
compelled  to  lie  in  my  tent  all  day. 

These  two  battles  were  offered  by  the  Confederates,  in  the 
hope  of  capturing  that  portion  of  the  Federal  army  that  lay 
upon  the  Richmond  side  of  the  river.  Some  days  previ- 
ously, McClellan  had  ordered  Keyes's  corps,  consisting  of 
perhaps  twelve  thousand  men,  to  cross  Bottom  Bridge, 
eight  miles  down  the  Chickahominy,  and  occupy  an  ad- 
vanced position  on  the  York  River  railroad,  six  miles  east 
of  Richmond.  Keyes's  two  divisions,  commanded  by  Gen- 
erals Couch  and  Casey,  were  thus  encamped  in  a  belt  of 
woods  remote  from  the  body  of  the  army,  and  little  more 
than  a  mile  from  the  enemy's  line.  Heintzelman's  corps 
was  lying  at  the  Bridge,  several  miles  in  their  rear,  and  the 
three  finest  corps  in  the  army  were  separated  from  them  by 
a  broad,  rapid  river,  which  could  be  crossed  at  two  places 
only.  The  troops  of  Keyes  were  mainly  inexperienced, 
undisciplined  volunteers  from  the  Middle  States.  When 
their  adversaries  advanced,  therefore,  in  force,  on  the  twen- 
ty-ninth instant,  they  made  a  fitful,  irregular  resistance,  and 
at  evening  retired  in  panic  and  disorder.  The  victorious 
enemy  followed  them  so  closely,  that  many  of  the  Federals 
were  slain  in  their  tents.  During  that  night,  the  Chicka- 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  125 

hominy,  swollen  by  rains,  overflowed  its  banks,  and  swept 
away  the  bridges.  The  beaten  and  disorganized  relic  of  the 
fight  of  "  Seven  Pines/'  was  thus  completely  isolated,  and 
apparently  to  be  annihilated  at  daybreak.  But  during  the 
night,  twenty  thousand  fresh  men  of  Sumner's  corps,  ford- 
ed the  river,  carrying  their  artillery,  piece  by  piece  across, 
and  at  dawn  they  assumed  the  offensive,  seconded  by  the 
encouraged  columns  of  Keyes.  The  fight  was  one  of  despe- 
ration ;  at  night  the  Federals  reoccupied  their  old  ground 
at  Pairoaks,  and  the  Confederates  retired,  leaving  their  dead 
and  wounded  on  the  field.  They  lost,  among  their  prison- 
ers, General  Pettigrew,  of  South  Carolina,  who  was  severely 
wounded,  and  with  whom  I  talked  as  he  lay  in  bed  at 
Gaines's  Mansion.  He  appeared  to  be  a  chivalrous,  gos- 
sipy old  gentleman,  and  said  that  he  was  the  last  South 
Carolinian  to  stand  by  the  Union. 

On  the  succeeding  day,  Monday,  June  2, 1  rode  to  "  Grape- 
Vine  Bridge/'  and  attempted  to  force  my  horse  through 
the  swamp  and  stream  ;  but  the  drowned  mules  that  momen- 
tarily floated  down  the  current,  admonished  me  of  the 
folly  of  the  hazard.  The  bridge  itself  was  a  swimming 
mass  of  poles  and  logs,  that  yielded  with  every  pressure  ; 
yet  I  saw  many  wounded  men,  who  waded  through  the 
water,  or  stepped  lightly  from  log  to  log,  and  so  gained  the 
shore,  wet  from  head  to  foot.  Long  lines  of  supply  teams 
and  ambulances  were  wedged  in  the  depth  of  the  thick 
wood,  bordering  the  river  ;  but  so  narrow  were  the  cordu- 
roy approaches  to  the  bridge,  and  so  fathomless  the  swamp 
on  either  hand,  that  they  could  neither  go  forward,  nor 
return.  The  straggling  troops  brought  the  unwelcome  in- 
telligence, that  their  comrades  on  the  other  side  were  starv- 
ing, as  they  had  crossed  with  a  single  ration  of  food,  and 
had  long  ago  eaten  their  last  morsels.  While  I  was  stand- 
ing close  by  the  bridge,  General  McClellan,  and  staff,  rode 
through  the  swamp,  and  attempted  to  make  the  passage. 
The  "  young  Napoleon,"  urged  his  horse  upon  the  floating 
11* 


126  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

timber,  and  at  once  sank  over  neck  and  saddle.  His  staff 
du-shcd  after  him,  floundering  in  the  same  way  ;  and  when 
they  had  splashed  and  shouted,  till  I  believed  them  all 
drowned,  they  turned  and  came  to  shore,  dripping  and  dis- 
comfited. There  was  another  Napoleon,  who,  I  am  in- 
formed, slid  down  the  Alps  into  Italy  ;  the  present  descend- 
ant did  not  slide  so  far,  and  he  shook  himself,  after  the 
manner  of  a  dog.  I  remarked  with  some  surprise,  that  he 
was  growing  obese  ;  whereas,  the  active  labors  of  the  cam- 
paign had  reduced  the  dimensions  of  most  of  the  Gen- 
erals. 

I  secured  my  horse,  and  placed  a  drummer-boy  beside  him, 
to  prevent  abduction  or  mistake ;  then  stripping  from  top 
to  toe,  and  holding  my  garments  above  my  head,  I  essayed 
the  difficult  passage  ;  as  a  commencement,  I  dropped  my 
watch,  but  the  guard-hook  caught  in  a  log  and  held  it  fast. 
Afterward,  I  slipped  from  the  smooth  butt  of  a  tree,  and 
thoroughly  soused  myself  and  clothing  ;  a  lumber-man  from 
Maine,  beheld  my  ill  luck,  and  kindly  took  my  burden  to 
the  other  side.  An  estuary  of  the  Chickahominy  again 
intervened,  but  a  rough  scow  floated  upon  it,  which  the  Cap- 
tain of  Engineers  sent  for  me,  with  a  soldier  to  man  the 
oars.  I  neglected  to  "  trim  boat,"  I  am  sorry  to  add, 
although  admonished  to  that  effect  repeatedly  by  the  mari- 
ner ;  and  we  swamped  in  four  feet  of  water.  I  resembled 
a  being  of  one  of  the  antediluvian  eras,  when  I  came  to  land, 
finally,  and  might  have  been  taken  for  a  slimy  Iguanodon. 
I  sacrificed  some  of  my  under  clothing  to  the  process  of 
cleansing  and  drying,  and  so  started  with  soaking  boots, 
and  a  deficiency  of  dress,  in  the  direction  of  Savage's. 
Passing  the  "bottom,"  or  swamp-land,  I  ascended  a  hill, 
and  following  a  lane,  stopped  after  a  half  hour  at  a  frame- 
mansion,  unpainted,  with  some  barns  and  negro-quarters 
contiguous,  and  a  fine  grove  of  young  oaks,  shading  the 
porch.  An  elderly  gentleman  sat  in  the  porch,  sipping  a 
julep,  with  his  feet  upon  the  railing,  and  conversing  with  a 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  127 

stout,  ruddy  officer,  of  decidedly  Milesian  physiognomy. 
When  I  approached,  the  latter  hurriedly  placed  a  chair  be- 
tween himself  and  me,  and  said,  with  a  stare  — 

"  Bloodanowns  !  And  where  have  ye  been  ?  Among  the 
hogs,  I  think  ?  "  I  assured  him  that  I  did  not  intend  to 
come  to  close  quarters,  and  that  it  would  be  no  object  on 
my  part  to  contaminate  him.  The  old  gentleman  called  for 
"William,"  a  tall,  consumptive  servant,  whose  walk  reminded 
me  of  a  stubborn  convict's,  in  the  treadmill,  and  ordered 
him  to  scrape  me,  which  was  done,  accordingly,  with  a  case- 
knife.  The  young  officer  proposed  to  dip  me  jn  the  well 
and  wring  me  well  out,  but  I  demurred,  mainly  on  the 
ground  that  some  time  would  be  so  consumed,  and  that  my 
horse  was  waiting  on  the  other  side.  He  at  once  said  that 
he  would  send  for  it,  and  called  "  Pat,"  a  civilian  servant,  in 
military  blue,  who  was  nursing  a  negro  baby  with  an  eye,  it 
seemed,  to  obtain  favor  with  the  mother.  The  willingness 
of  the  man  surprised  me,  but  he  said  that  it  was  a  short  cut 
of  four  miles  to  the  railroad  bridge,  which  had  been  repaired 
and  floored,  and  that  he  could  readily  recover  the  animal 
and  return  at  three  o'clock.  My  benefactor,  the  officer, 
then  mixed  a  julep,  which  brought  a  comfortable  glow  to 
my  face,  and  said,  without  parley  — 

"  You're  a  reporter,  on  the " 

He  said  further,  that  he  had  been  Coroner's  Surgeon  in 
New  York  for  many  years,  and  had  learned  to  know  the 
representatives  of  newspapers,  one  from  the  other,  by 
generic  manner  and  appearance.  Three  correspondents 
rode  by  at  the  time,  neither  of  whom  he  knew  person- 
ally, but  designated  them  promptly,  with  their  precise  con- 
nections. In  short,  we  became  familiar  directly,  and  he  told 
me  that  his  name  was  O'Gamlon,  Quartermaster  of  Meagher's 
Irish  brigade,  Sumner's  corps.  He  was  established  with 
the  elderly  gentleman,  —  whose  name  was  Michie,  —  and 
had  two  horses  in  the  stable,  at  hand.  He  proposed  to  send 
me  to  the  field,  with  a  note  of  introduction  to  the  General, 


128  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT. 

and  another  to  Colonel  Baker,  of  the  New  York  88th 
(Irish),  who  could  show  me  the  lines  and  relics  of  battle, 
and  give  me  the  lists  of  "killed,  wounded,  and  missing.  I 
repaired  to  his  room,  and  arrayed  myself  in  a  fatigue  officer's 
suit,  with  clean  underclothing,  after  which,  descending,  I 
climbed  into  his  saddle,  and  dashed  off,  with  a  mettlesome, 
dapper  pony.  The  railroad  track  was  about  a  mile  from 
the  house,-  and  the  whole  country,  hereabout,  was  sappy, 
dank,  and  almost  barren.  Scrub  pines  covered  much  of  the 
soil,  and  the  cleared  fields  were  dotted  with  charred  stumps. 
The  houses  were  small  and  rude  ;  the  wild  pigs  ran  like  deer 
through  the  bushes  and  across  my  path  ;  vultures  sailed  by 
hundreds  between  me  and  the  sky  ;  the  lane  was  slippery 
and  wound  about  slimy  pools  ;  the  tree-tops,  in  many  places, 
were  splintered  by  ball  and  shell.  I  crossed  the  railroad, 
cut  by  a  high  bridge,  and  saw  below  the  depot,  at  Savage's, 
now  the  head-quarters  of  General  Heintzelman.  Above,  in 
full  view,  were  the  commands  at  Peach  Orchard  and  Fair- 
oaks,  and  to  the  south,  a  few  furlongs  distant,  the  Williams- 
burg  and  Eichmond  turnpike  ran,  parallel  with  the  railway, 
toward  the  field  of  Seven  Pines.  The  latter  site,  was 
simply  the  junction  of  the  turnpike  with  a  roundabout  way 
to  Richmond,  called  the  "  Nine  Mile  Road,"  and  Fairoaks 
was  the  junction  of  the  diverging  road  with  the  railroad. 
Toward  the  latter  I  proceeded,  and  soon  came  to  the  Irish 
brigade,  located  on  both  sides  of  the  way,  at  Peach  Orchard. 

They  occupied  the  site  of  the  most  desperate  fight- 
ing. 

A  small  farm  hollowed  in  the  swampy  thicket  and  wood, 
was  here  divided  by  the  track,  and  a  little  farm-house,  with 
a  barn,  granary,  and  a  couple  of  cabins,  lay  on  the  left  side. 
In  a  hut  to  the  right  General  Thomas  Francis  Meagfcer  made 
his  head-quarters,  and  a  little  beyond,  in  the  edges  of  the 
swamp  timber,  lay  his  four  regiments,  under  arms. 

A  guard  admonished  me,  in  curt,  lithe  speech,  that  my 
horse  must  come  no  further ;  for  the  brigade  held  the 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    NON-COMBATANT.  129 

advance  post,  and  I  was  even  now  within  easy  musket 
range  of  the  imperceptible  enemy.  An  Irish  boy  volun- 
teered to  hold  the  rein,  while  I  paid  my  respects  to  the  Com- 
mander. I  encountered  him  on  the  threshold  of  the  hut, 
and  he  welcomed  me  in  the  richest  and  most  musical  of 
brogues.  Large,  corpulent,  and  powerful  of  body  ;  plump 
and  ruddy  —  or  as  some  would  say,  bloated  —  of  face  ;  with 
resolute  mouth  and  heavy  animal  jaws  ;  expressive  nose, 
and  piercing  blue-eyes  ;  brown  hair,  mustache,  and  eye- 
brows ;  a  fair  forehead,  and  short  sinewy  neck,  a  man  of 
apparently  thirty  years  of  age,  stood  in  the  doorway,  smok- 
ing a  cigar,  and  trotting  his  sword  fretfully  in  the  scabbard. 
He  wore  the  regulation  blue  cap,  but  trimmed  plentifully 
with  gold  lace,  and_  his  sleeves  were  slashed  in  the  same 
manner.  A  star  glistened  in  his  oblong  shoulder-bar ;  a 
delicate  gold  cord  seamed  his  breeches  from  his  Hessian 
boots  to  his  red  tasselled  sword-sash  ;  a  seal-ring  shone  from 
the  hand  with  which  he  grasped  his  gauntlets,  and  his  spurs 
were  set  aipon  small  aristocratic  feet. 

A  tolerable  physiognomist  would  have  resolved  his  tem- 
perament to  an  intense  sanguine.  He  was  fitfully  impulsive, 
as  all  his  movements  attested,  and  liable  to  fluctuations^  of 
peevishness,  melancholy,  and  enthusiasm.  This  was 
"  Meagher  of  the  Sword,"  the  stripling  who  made  issue 
with  the  renowned  O'Connell,  and  divided  his  applauses  ;  the 
"revolutionist,"  who  had  outlived  exile  to  become  the 
darling  of  the  "Young  Ireland"  populace  in  his  adopted 
country ;  the  partisan,  whose  fierce,  impassioned  oratory 
had  wheeled  his  factious  element  of  the  Democracy  into  the 
war  cause  ;  and  the  soldier,  whose  gallant  bearing  at  Bull 
Run  had  won  him  a  brigadiership.  He  was,  to  my  mind,  a 
realization  of  the  Knight  of  Gwynne,  or  any  of  the  rash, 
impolitic,  poetic  personages  in  Lever  and  Griffin.  Ambitious 
without  a  name  ;  an  adventurer  without  a  definite  cause  j 
an  orator  without  policy  ;  a  General  without  caution  or 
experience,  he  had  led  the  Irish  brigade  through  the  hottest 


130  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

battles,  and  associated  them  with  the  most  brilliant  episodes 
of  the  war. 

Every  adjunct  of  the  place  was  strictly  Hibernian.  The 
emerald  green  standard  entwined  with  the  red,  white,  and 
blue  ;  the  gilt  eagles  on  the  flag-poles  held  the  Shamrock 
sprig  in  their  beaks  ;  the  soldiers  lou»ging  on  guard,  had 
"  69  "  or  "  88  "  the  numbers  of  their  regiments,  stamped 
on  a  green  hat-band  ;  the  brogue  of  every  county  from 
Down  to  Wexford  fell  upon  the  ear  ;  one  might  have  sup- 
posed that  the  "  year  '98  "  had  been  revived,  and  that  these 
brawny  Celts  were  again  afield  against  their  Saxon  country- 
men. The  class  of  lads  upon  the  staff  of  Meagher,  was  an 
odd  contrast  to  the  mass  of  staff  officers  in  the  "Grand 
Army."  Fox-hunters  they  all  seemed  to  me,  and  there  was 
one,  who  wore  a  long,  twisted,  pomatumed  moustache,  who 
talked  of  steeple  chases,  all  the  while,  and  wanted  to  have 
"  a  healthy  dash  "  of  some  kind.  A  class  of  Irish  exquisites, 
they  appeared  to  be,  —  good  for  a  fight,  a  card-party,  or  a 
hurdle  jumping,  —  but  entirely  too  Quixotic  for  the  sober 
requirements  of  Yankee  warfare.  When  anything  absurd, 
forlorn,  or  desperate  was  to  be  attempted,  the  Irish  brigade 
was  called  upon.  But,  ordinarily,  they  were  regarded,  as  a 
party  of  mad  fellows,  more  ornamental  than  useful,  and  en- 
tirely too  clannish  and  factious  to  be  entrusted  with  power. 
Meagher  himself  seemed  to  be  less  erratic  than  his  subordi- 
nates ;  for  he  had  married  a  New  York  lady,  and  had  learned, 
by  observation,  the  superiority  of  the  pelfish,  plodding- 
native  before  his  own  fitful,  impracticable  race.  His  ad- 
dress was  infatuating :  but  there  was  a  certain  airiness, 
indicative  of  vanity,  that  revealed  his  great  characteristic. 
He  loved  applause,  and-~to  obtain  it  had  frittered  away  his 
fine  abilities,  upon  petty,  splendid,  momentary  triumphs, 
lie  was  generous  to  folly,  and,  I  have  no  doubt,  maintained 
his  whole  staff. 

When  I  requested  to  be  shown  the  field,  and  its  relics, 
Meagher  said,  in  his  musical  brogue,  that  I  need  only  look 
around. 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    NOX-COMBATAXT.  131 

"  From  the  edge  of  that  wood,"  he  said,  "  the  Irish 
brigade  charged  across  this  field,  and  fell  upon  their  faces  in 
the  railway  cutting  below.  A  regiment  of  Alabamians  lay 
in  the  timber  beyond,  with  other  Southerners  in  their  rear, 
arid  on  both  flanks.  They  thought  that  we  were  charging 
bayonets,  and  reserved  their  fire  till  we  should  approach 
within  butchering  distance.  On  the  contrary,  I  ordered  the 
boys  to  lie  down,  and  load  and  fire  at  will.  In  the  end,  sir, 
we  cut  them  to  jJteces,  and  five  hundred  of  them  were  left 
along  the  swamp  fence,  that  you  see.  There  isn't  fifty 
killed  and  wounded  in  the  whole  Irish  brigade." 

A  young  staff  officer  took  me  over  the  field.  We  visited 
first  the  cottage  and  barns  across  the  road,  and  found  the 
house  occupied  by  some  thirty  wounded  Federals.  They 
lay  in  their  blankets  upon  the  floors,  —  pale,  helpless,  hollow- 
eyed,  making  low  moans  at  every  breath.  Two  or  three 
were  feverishly  sleeping,  and,  as  the  flies  revelled  upon  their 
gashes,  they  stirred  uneasily  and  moved  their  hands  to  and 
fro.  By  the  flatness  of  the  covering  at  the  extremities,  I 
could  see  that  several  had  only  stumps  of  legs.  They 
had  lost  the  sweet  enjoyment  of  walking  afield,  and  were 
but  fragments  of  men,  to  limp  forever  through  a  painful  life. 
Such  wrecks  of  power  I  never  beheld.  Broad,  brawny, 
buoyant,  a  few  hours  ago,  the  loss  of  blood,  and  the  nervous 
shock,  attendant  upon  amputation,  has  wellnigh  drained 
them  to  the  last  drop.  Their  faces  were  as  white  as  the 
tidy  ceiling  ;  they  were  whining  like  babies  ;  and  only  their 
rolling  eyes  distinguished  them  from  mutilated  corpses. 
Some  seemed  quite  broken  in  spirit,  and  one,  who  could 
speak,  observing  my  pitiful  glances  toward  his  severed  thigh, 
drew  up  his  mouth  and  chin,  and  wept  as  if  with  the  loss 
of  comeliness  all  his  ambitions  were  frustrated.  A  few  at- 
tendants were  brushing  off  the  insects  with  boughs  of  cedar, 
laving  the  sores,  or  administering  cooling  draughts.  The 
second  story  of  the  dwelling  was  likewise  occupied  by 
wounded,  but  in  a  corner  clustered  the  terrified  fanner 


132  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

and  his  family,  vainly  attempting  to  turn  their  eyes  from 
the  horrible  spectacle.  The  farmer's  wife  had  a  baby 
at  her  breast,  and  its  little  blue  eyes  were  straying  over 
the  room,  half  wonderingly,  half  delightedly.  I  thought, 
with  a  shudder,  of  babyhood  thus  surrounded,  and  how, 
in  the  long  future,  its  first  recollections  of  existence  should 
be  of  booming  guns  and  dying  soldiers  !  The  cow-shed 
contained  seven  corpses,  scarcely  yet  cold,  lying  upon  their 
backs,  in  a  row,  and  fast  losing  all  res<tnblance  to  man. 
The  farthest  removed,  seemed  to  be  a  diminutive  boy,  and  I 
thought  if  he  had  a  mother,  that  she  might  sometime  like  to 
speak  with  me.  When  I  took  their  names,  I  thought  what 
terrible  agencies  I  was  fulfilling.  Beyond  my  record,  falsely 
spelled,  perhaps,  they  would  have  no  history.  And  people 
call  such  deaths  glorious  ! 

Upon  a  pile  of  lumber  and  some  heaps  of  fence-rails,  close 
by,  sat  some  dozens  of  wounded  men,  mainly  Federals,  with 
bandaged  arms  and  faces,  and  torn  clothing.  There  was 
one,  shot  in  the  foot,  who  howled  at  every  effort  to  remove 
his  boot ;  the  blood  leaked  from  a  rent  in  the  side,  and  at 
last,  the  leather  was  cut,  piecemeal  from  the  flesh.  These 
ate  voraciously,  though  in  pain  and  fear ;  for  a  little  soup 
and  meat  was  being  doled  out  to  them. 

The  most  horrible  of  all  these  scenes  —  which  I  have 
described  perhaps  too  circumstantially  —  was  presented  in 
the  stable  or  barn,  on  the  premises,  where  a  bare  dingy 
floor  —  the  planks  of  which  tilted  and  shook,  as  one  made 
his  way  over  them  —  was  strewn  with  suffering  people. 
Just  at  the  entrance  sat  a  boy,  totally  blind,  both  eyes 
having  been  torn  out  by  a  minnie-ball,  and  the  entire  bridge 
of  the  nose  shot  away.  He  crouched  against  the  gable,  in 
darkness  and  agony,  tremulously  fingering  his  knees. 
Near  at  hand,  sat  another,  who  had  been  shot  through  the 
middle  of  the  forehead,  but  singular  to  relate,  he  still  lived, 
though  lunatic,  and  evidently  beyond  hope.  Death  had 
drawn  blue  and  yellow  circles  beneath  his  eyes,  and  he  mut- 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  133 

tered  incomprehensibly,  wagging  his  head.  Two  men,  per- 
fectly naked,  lay  in  the  middle  of  the  place,  wounded  in 
bowels  and  loins  ;  and  at  a  niche  ( in  the  weather-boarding, 
where  some  pale  light  peeped  in,  four  mutilated  wretches 
were  gaming  with  cards.  I  was  now  led  a  little  way  down 
the  railroad,  to  see  the  Confederates.  The  rain  began  to 
fall  at  this  time,  and  the  poor  fellows  shut  their  eyes  to 
avoid  the  pelting  of  the  drops.  There  was  no  shelter  for 
them  within  a  mile,  and  the  mud  absolutely  reached  half 
way  up  their  bodies.  Nearly  one  third  had  suffered  ampu- 
tation above  the  knee.  There  were  about  thirty  at  this 
spot,  and  I  was  told  that  they  were  being  taken  to  Meadow 
Station  on  hand  cars.  As  soon  as  the  locomotive  could  pass 
the  Chickahominy,  they  would  be  removed  to  White  House, 
and  comfortably  quartered  in  the  Sanitary  and  hospital 
boats.  Some  of  them  were  fine,  athletic,  and  youthful,  and 
I  was  directed  to  one  who  had  been  married  only  three  days 
before. 

"Doctor,"  said  one,  feebly,  "I  feel  very  cold:  do  you 
think  that  this  is  death  ?  It  seems  to  be  creeping  to  my 
heart.  I  have  no  feeling  in  my  feet,  and  my  thighs  are 
numb." 

A  Federal  soldier  came  along  with  a  bucket  of  soup,  and 
proceeded  to  fill  the  canteens  and  plates.  He  appeared  to 
be  a  relative  of  Mark  Tapley,  and  possessed  much  of  that 
estimable  person's  jollity  — 

"Come,  pardner,"  he  said,  "drink  yer  sup!  now,  old 
boy,  this'ill  warm  ye  ;  sock  it  down  and  ye'll  see  yer  sweet- 
heart soon.  You  dead,  Ally-bammy  ?  Go  way,  now. 
You'll  live  a  hundred  years,  you  will.  That's  wot  you'll 
do.  Won't  he,  lad  ?  What  ?  Not  any  ?  '  Get  out ! 
You'll  be  slap  on  your  legs  next  week  and  hev  another  shot 
at  me  the  week  a'ter  that.  You  know  you  will !  Oh  !  you 
Rebil  I  You,  with  the  butternut  trousers  !  Say  !  Wake 
up  and  take  some  o'  this.  Hello  !  lad,  pardner.  Wake  up  I  " 

He  stirred  him  gently  with  his  foot ;  he  bent  down  to 
12 


134  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

touch  his  face.  A  grimness  came  over  his  merriment.  The 
man  was  stift'  and  dumb. 

Colonel  Baker,  commanding  the  88th  New  York,  was  a 
tall,  martial  Irishman,  who  opened  his  heart  and  bottle  at 
the  same  welcome,  and  took  me  into  the  woods,  where  some 
of  the  slain  still  remained.  lie  had  slept  not  longer  than 
an  hour,  continuously,  for  seventy  hours,  and  during  the 
past  night  had  been  called  up  by  eight  alarums.  His  men 
lay  in  the  dark  thickets,  without  fires  or  blankets,  as  they 
had  crossed  the  Chickahominy  in  light  marching  order. 

"  Many  a  lad,"  said  he,  "  will  escape  the  bullet  for  a  lin- 
gering consumption." 

We  had  proceeded  but  a  very  little  way,  when  we  came 
to  a  trodden  place  beneath  the  pines,  where  a  scalp  lay  in 
the  leaves,  and  the  imprint  of  a  body  was  plainly  visible. 
The  bayonet  scabbard  lay  at  one  side,  the  canteen  at  the 
other.  We  saw  no  corpses,  however,  as  fatigue  parties  had 
been  burying. the  slain,  and  the  whole  wood  was  dotted  with 
heaps  of  clay,  where  the  dead  slept  below  in  the  oozy 
trenches.  Quantities  of  cartridges  were  scattered  here  and 
there,  dropped  by  the  retreating  Confederates.  Some  of 
the  cartridge-pouches  that  I  examined  were  completely 
filled,  showing  that  their  possessors  had  not  fired  a  single 
round  ;  others  had  but  one  cartridge  missing.  There  were 
fragments  of  clothing,  hair,  blankets,  murderous  bowie  and 
dirk  knives,  spurs,  flasks,  caps,  and  plumes,  dropped  all  the 
way  through  the  thicket,  and  the  trees  on  every  hand  were 
riddled  with  balls.  I  came  upon  a  squirrel,  unwittingly 
shot  during  the  fight.  Not  those  alone  who  make  the  war 
must  feel  the  war !  At  one  of  the  mounds  the  burying  party 
had  just  completed  their  work,  and  the  men  were  throwing 
the  last  clods  upon  the  remains.  They  had  dug  pits  of  not 
more  than  two  feet  depth,  and  dragged  the  bodies  heedlessly 
to  the  edges,  whence  they  were  toppled  down  and  scantily 
covered.  Much  of  the  interring  had  been  done  by  night,  and 
the  flare  of  lanterns  upon  the  discolored  faces  and  dead  eyes 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  135 

must  have  been  hideously  effective.  The  grave-diggers,  how- 
ever, were  practical  personages,  and  had  probably  little  care 
for  dramatic  effects.  They  leaned  upon  their  spades,  when 
the  rites  were  finished,  and  a  large,  dry  person,  who  appeared 
to  be  privileged  upon  all  occasions,  said,  grinningly  — 

"  Colonel,  your  honor,  them  boys  'ill  niver  stand  forninst 
the  Irish  brigade  again.  If  they'd  ha'  known  it  was  us,  sur, 
begorra !  they  ;ud  ha'  brought  coffins  wid  'em." 

"No,  niver!"  "They  got  their  ticket  for  soup!" 
"  We  kivered  them,  fait',  will  inough  !  "  shouted  the  other 
grave-diggers." 

"  Do  ye  belave,  Colonel,"  said  the  dry  person,  again, 
"  that  thini  ribals'll  lave  us  a  chance  to  catch  them.  Be 
me  sowl !  I'm  jist  wishin  to  war-rum  me  hands  wid  rifle 
practice." 

The  others  echoed  loudly,  that  they  were  anxious  to  be 
ordered  up,  and  some  said  that  "  Little  Mac'll  give  'em  his 
big  whack  now."  The  presence  of  death  seemed  to  have 
added  no  fear  of  death  to  these  people.  Having  tasted 
blood,  they  now  thirsted  for  it,  and  I  asked  myself,  fore- 
bodingly, if  a  return  to  civil  life  would  find  them  less  fero- 
cious. 

I  dined  with  Colonel  Owen  of  the  69th  Pennsylvania  (Irish) 
volunteers.  He  had  been  a  Philadelphia  lawyer,  and  was,  by 
all  odds,  the  most  consistent  and  intelligent  soldier  in  the  brig- 
ade. He  had  been  also  a  schoolmaster  for  many  years,  but 
appeared  to  be  in  his  element  at  the  head  of  a  regiment, 
and  was  generally  admitted  to  be  an  efficient  officer.  He 
shared  the  prevailing  antipathy  to  West  Point  graduates  ; 
for  at  this  time  the  arrogance  of  the  regular  officers,  and 
the  pride  of  the  volunteers,  had  embittered  each  against  the 
other.  His  theory  of  military  education  was,  the  establish- 
ment of  State  institutions,  and  the  reorganization  of  citizen- 
ship upon  a  strict  militia  basis.  After  dinner,  I  rode  to  "  Seven 
Pines,"  and  examined  some  of  the  rifle  pits  used  during  the 
engagement.  A  portion  of  this  ground  only  had  been  retaken, 


13G  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    KON-COMBATANT. 

and  I  was  warned  to  keep  undercover  ;  for  sharpshooters  lay 
close  by,  in  the  underbrush.  A  visit  to  the  graves  of  some 
Federal  soldiers  completed  the  inspection.  Some  of  the 
regiments  had  interred  their  dead  in  trenches ;  but  the  New 
Englanders  were  all  buried  separately,  and  smooth  slabs 
were  driven  at  the  heads  of  the  mounds,  whereon  were 
inscribed  the  names  and  ages  of  the  deceased.  Some  of  the 
graves  were  freshly  sodded,  and  enclosed  by  rails  and  logs. 
They  evidenced  the  orderly,  religious  habits  of  the  sons  of 
the  Puritans  ;  for,  with  all  his  hardness  of  manner  and  selfish- 
ness of  purpose,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  Yankee  is 
the  best  manifestation  of  Northern  character.  He  loves  his 
home,  at  least,  and  he  reveres  his  deceased  comrades. 

When  I  returned  to  Michie's,  at  six  o'clock,  the  man 
"  Pat/'  with  a  glowing  face,  came  out  to  the  gate. 

"  That's  a  splendid  baste  of  yours,  sur,"  he  said,  —  "  and 
sich  a  boi  to  gallop." 

"  My  horse  doesn't  generally  gallop,"  I  returned,  doubt- 
fully. 

When  I  passed  to  the  barn  in  the  rear,  I  found  to  my 
astonishment,  a  sorrel  stallion,  magnificently  accoutred. 
lie  thrust  his  foot  at  me  savagely,  as  I  stood  behind  him, 
and  neighed  till  he  frightened  the  spiders. 

"Pat,"  said 'I,  wrathfully,  "you  have  stolen  some  Col- 
onel's nag,  and  I  shall  be  hanged  for  the  theft." 

"Fait,  sur,"  said  Pat,  "my  ligs  was  gone  intirely,  wid 
long  walkin',  and  I  sazed  the  furst  iligant  baste  I  come  to." 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

STUART'S   RAID. 

THE  old  Chickahominy  bridges  were  soon  repaired,  and 
the  whole  of  Franklin's  corps  crossed  to  the  south  side. 
McClellan  moved  his  head-quarters  to  Dr.  Trent's  farm,  a 
half-mile  from  Michie's,  and  the  latter  gentleman's  fields 
and  lawn  were  made  white  with  tents.  Among  others,  the 
Chief  of  Cavalry,  Stoneman,  pitched  his  canopy  nnder  the 
young  oaks,  and  the  whole  reserve  artillery  was  parked  in 
the  woods,  close  to  the  house.  The  engineer  brigade  en- 
camped in  the  adjacent  peach-orchard  and  corn-field,  and 
the  wheat  was  trampled  by  battery  and  team-horses. 
Smith's  division  now  occupied  the  hills  on  the  south  side  of 
the  Chickahominy,  and  the  Federal  line  stretched  south- 
eastward, through  Fairoaks,  to  White  Oak  Swamp,  seven 
miles  away.  Porter's  corps  still  lay  between  Mechanics- 
ville  and  New  Bridge,  on  the  north  bank  of  the  river,  and 
my  old  acquaintances,  the  Pennsylvania  Reserves,  had 
joined  the  army,  and  now  formed  its  extreme  right  wing. 
This  odd  arrangement  of  forces  was  a  subject  of  frequent 
comment :  for  the  right  was  thus  four  miles,  and  the  left 
fourteen  miles,  from  Richmond.  The  four  corps  at  once 
commenced  to  entrench,  and  from  Smith's  redoubt  on  the 
river  bluffs,  to  Casey's  entrenched  hill  at  White  Oak,  a  con- 
tinuous line  of  moderately  strong  earthworks  extended. 
But  Porter  and  the  Reserves  were  not  entrenched  at  all, 
and  only  a  few  horsemen  were  picketed  across  the  long  reach 
12*  (137) 


138  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

of  country  from  Meadow  Bridge  to  Hanover  Court  House. 
Both  flanks,  in  fact,  were  open,  and  the  left  was  a  day's 
march  from  the  right.  We  were,  meantime,  drawing  our 
supplies  from  White  House,  twenty  miles  in  the  rear  ;  there 
were  no  railroad  guards  along  the  entire  line,  and  about 
five  companies  protected  the  grand  depot.  Two  gunboats 
lay  in  the  river,  however,  and  as  the  teams  still  went  to  and 
fro,  a  second  depot  was  established  at  a  place  called  Put- 
ney's or  "  Garlic,"  five  miles  above  White  House.  I  went 
often,  and  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and  night,  over  this  ex- 
posed and  lonely  route.  My  horse  had  been,  meantime,  re- 
turned to  the  Provost  Quarters,  and  the  rightful  owner  had 
obtained  his  stallion  in  exchange.  I  rode  the  said  stallion 
but  once,  when  he  proceeded  to  walk  sideways,  and  several 
times  rivalled  the  renowned  Pegasus  in  his  aerial  flights. 
The  man  named  "  Pat "  essayed  to  show  his  paces  one  day, 
but  the  stallion  took  him  straight  into  Stoneman's  wall-tent, 
and  that  officer  shook  the  Irishman  blind.  My  little  bob- 
tailed  brownie  was  thrice  endeared  to  me  by  our  separation  ; 
but  I  warned  the  man  "  Pat "  to  keep  clear  of  him  there- 
after. The  man  "  Pat"  was  a  very  eccentric  person,  who 
slept  on  the  porch  at  Michie's,  and  used  to  wake  up  the 
house  in  the  small  hours,  with  the  story  that  somebody  was 
taking  the  chickens  and  the  horses.  He  was  the  most  im- 
pulsive person  that  I  ever  knew,  and  when  I  entrusted  de- 
spatches to  him  once,  he  put  them  on  the  hospital  boat  by 
mistake,  and  they  got  to  New  York  at  the  close  of  the  cam- 
paign. 

Michie's  soon  became  a  correspondents'  rendezvous,  and 
we  have  had  at  one  time,  at  dinner,  twelve  representatives 
of  five  journals.  The  Hon.  Henry  J.  Raymond,  Ex-Lieuten- 
ant Governor  of  New  York,  and  proprietor  of  the  Times 
newspaper,  was  one  of  our  family  for  several  weeks.  He 
had  been  a  New  Hampshire  lad,  and,  strolling  to  New  York, 
took  to  journalism  at  the  age  of  nineteen  years.  His  indus- 
try and  probity  obtained  him  both  means  and  credit,  and, 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  139 

also,  what  few  young  journalists  obtain,  social  position. 
He  was  the  founder  of  Harper's  Magazine,  one  of  the  most 
successful  serials  in  America,  and  many  English  authors  are 
indebted  to  him  for  a  trans- Atlantic  recognition  of  their 
works.  He  edited  an  American  edition  of  Jane  Uijre  before 
it  had  attracted  attention  in  England,  and  conducted  the 
Courier  and  Enquirer  with  great  success  for  many  years. 
The  Times  is  now  the  most  reputable  of  the  great  New  York 
dailies,  and  Mr.  Raymond  has  made  it  influential  both  at 
home  and  abroad.  He  has  retained,  amidst  his  social  and 
political  successes,  a  predilection  for  "  Bohemia,"  and  be- 
came an  indefatigable  correspondent.  I  rode  out  with  him 
sometimes,  and  heard,  with  interest,  his  accounts  of  the 
Italian  war,  whither  he-  also  went  in  furtherance  of  journal- 
ism. Among  our  quill  cavalry-men  was  a  fat  gentleman 
from  Philadelphia,  who  had  great  fear  of  death,  and'  who 
used  to  "  tear"  to  White  House,  if  the  man  "  Pat "  shot  a 
duck  in  the  garden.  He  was  a  hearty,  humorous  person, 
however,  and  an  adept  at  searching  for  news. 

O'Ganlon  rode  with  me  several  times  to  White  House, 
and  we  have  crossed  the  railroad  bridge  together,  a  hun- 
dred feet  in  the  air,  when  the  planks  were  slippery,  the 
sides  sloping,  and  the  way  so  narrow  that  two  horses  could 
not  pass  abreast.  He  was  a  true  Irishman,  and  leaped  bar- 
ricades and  ditches  without  regard  to  his  neck.  He  had, 
also,  a  partiality  for  by-roads  that  led  through  swamps  and 
close  timber.  He  discovered  one  day  a  cow-path  between 
Baker's  and  an  old  Mill  at  Grapevine  Bridge.  The  long 
arms  of  oaks  and  beech  trees  reached  across  it,  and  young 
Absalom  might  have  been  ensnared  by  the  locks  at  every 
rod  therein.  Through  this  devious  and  dangerous  way, 
O'Ganlon  used  to  dash,  whooping,  guiding  his  horse  with 
marvellous  dexterity,  and  bantering  me  to  follow.  I  so  far 
forgot  myself  generally,  as  to  behave  quite  as  irrationally, 
and  once  returned  to  Michie's  with  a  bump  above  my  right 
eye,  that  rivalled  my  head  in  size.  At  other  times  I  rode 


140  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

alone,  and  my  favorite  route  was  an  unfrequented  lane  called 
the  "Quaker  Road,"  that  extended  from  Despatch  Station, 
on  the  line  of  rail,  to  Baker's,  on  the  New  Bridge  Road. 
Much  of  this  way  was  shut  in  by  thick  woods  and  dreary 
pine  barrens  ;  but  the  road  was  hard  and  light,  and  a  few 
quiet  farms  lay  by  the  roadside.  There  was  a  mill,  also, 
three  miles  from  Baker's,  where  a  turbulent  creek  crossed 
the  route,  and  at  an  oak-wood,  near  by,  I  used  to  frighten 
the  squirrels,  so  that  they  started  up  by  pairs  and  families ; 
I  have  chased  them  in  this  way  a  full  mile,  and  they  seemed 
to  know  me  after  a  time.  We  used  to  be  on  the  best  of 
terms,  and  they  would,  at  length,  stand  their  ground  sau- 
cily, and  chatter,  the  one  with  the  other,  flourishing  their 
bushy  appendages,  like  so  many  straggling  "  Bucktails." 
When  I  turned  from  the  beaten  road,  where  the  ruts  were 
like  a  ditch  and  parapet,  and  dead  horses  blackened  the 
fields ;  where  teams  went  creaking  day  and  night,  and 
squads  of  sabremen  drove  pale,  barefooted  prisoners  to  and 
fro  like  swine  or  cattle,  the  silence  and  solitude  of  this  by- 
lane  were  beautiful  as  sleep.  Many  of  the  old  people  living 
in  this  direction  had  not  seen  even  a  soldier  or  a  sutler,  save 
some  mounted  scouts  that  vanished  in  clouds  of  dust ;  but 
they  had  listened  with  awe  to  the  music  of  cannon,  though 
they  did  not  know  either  the  place  or  the  result  of  the  fight- 
ing. If  fate  has  ordained  me  to  survive  the  Rebellion,  I 
shall  some  day  revisit  these  localities  ;  they  are  stamped 
legibly  upon  my  mind,  and  I  know  almost  every  old  couple 
in  New  Kent  or  Hanover  counties.  I  have  lunched  at  all 
the  little  springs  on  the  road,  and  eaten  corn-bread  and 
bacon  at  most  of  the  cabins.  I  have  swam  the  Pamunkey 
at  dozens  of  places,  and  when  my  finances  were  low,  and 
my  nag  hungry,  have  organized  myself  into  a  company  of 
foragers,  and  broken  into  the  good  people's  granaries.  I  do 
not  know  any  position  that  admitted  of  as  much  adventure 
and  variety.  There  was  always  enough  danger  to  make  my 
journeys  precariously  pleasant,  and,  when  wearied  of  the 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   N OX-COMBATANT.  141 

saddle,  my  friends  at  Baker's  and  Michie's  had  a  savory 
julep  and  a  comfortable  bed  always  prepared.  I  had  more 
liberty  than  General  McClellan,  and  a  great  deal  more  com- 
fort. 

Mrs.  Michie  was  a  warm-hearted,  impulsive  Virginia  lady, 
with  almost  New  England  industry,  and  from  very  scanty 
materials  she  contrived  to  spread  a  bountiful  table.  Her 
coffee  was  bubbling  with  rich  cream,  andher  "yellow  pone" 
was  overrunning  with  butter.  A  cleanly  black  girl  shook  a 
fly-brush  over  our  shoulders  as  we  ate,  and  the  curious 
custom  was  maintained  of  sending  a  julep  to  our  bedrooms 
before  we  rose  in  the  mornings.  Our  hostess  was  too 
hospitable  to  be  a  bitter  partisan,  and  during  five  weeks 
of  tenure  at  her  residence,  we  never  held  an  hour's  contro- 
versy. She  had  troubles,  but  she  endured  them  patiently. 
She  saw,  one  by  one,  articles  of  property  sacrificed  or 
stolen  ;  she  heard  the  servants  speaking  impudently  ;  and 
her  daughters  and  son  were  in  a  remote  part  of  the  State. 
The  young  man  was  a  Confederate  Surgeon  at  Lynchburg, 
and  the  young  ladies  had  taken  refuge  in  Rockbridge 
County.  The  latter  were,  from  all  accounts,  pretty  and 
intelligent,  and  one  day,  as  I  examined  some  parcels  of 
books  in  the  parlors,  I  found  a  volume  of  amateur  poems 
that  some  laboring  bard  had  dedicated  to  the  youngest  of 
them.  Mr.  Michie  was  a  fine  old  Virginia  gentleman,  who 
remembered  Thomas  Jefferson  well-,  as  he  had  been  reared 
in  that  great  statesman's  village,  Charlottesville.  He  told 
me  many  anecdotes  of  Patrick  Henry,  John  Randolph,  and 
other  distinguished  patriots. 

I  wrote  in  one  of  the  absent  daughter's  albums  the  fol- 
io wing  lines  1  — 

Alas !  for  the  pleasant  peace  we  knew, 

In  the  happy  summers  of  long  ago, 
When  the  rivers  were  bright,  and  the  skies  were  blue, 

By  the  homes  of  Henrico : 


142  CAMPAIGNS   OF  A   NON-COMBATANT. 

We  dreamed  of  wars  that  were  far  away, 

And  read,  as  in  fable,  of  blood  that  ran, 
Where  the  James  and  Chickahominy  stray, 

Through  the  groves  of  Powhattan. 

'Tis  a  dream  come  true ;  for  the  afternoons 

Blow  bugles  of  war,  by  our  fields  of  grain, 
And  the  sabres  clink,  as  the  dark  dragoons 

Come  galloping  up  the  lane ; 
The  pigeons  have  flown  from  the  eves  and  tiles, 

The  oat-blades  have  grown  to  blades  of  steel, 
And  the  Huns  swarm  down  the  leafy  aisles 

Of  the  grand  old  Commonweal. 

They  have  torn  the  Indian  fisher's  nets, 

Where  flows  Paniuukey  toward  the  sea, 
And  blood  runs  red  in  the  rivulets, 

That  babbled  and  brawled  in  glee ; 
The  corpses  are  strewn  in  Fairoak  glades, 

The  hoarse  guns  thunder  from  Drury's  Ridge, 
The  fishes  that  played  in  the  cove,  deep  shades, 

Are  frightened  from  Bottom  Bridge. 

I  would  that  the  year  were  blotted  away, 

And  the  strawberry  grew  in  the  hedge  again ; 
That  the  scythe  might  swing  in  the  tangled  hay, 

And  the  squirrel  romp  in  the  glen ; 
The  walnut  sprinkle  the  clover  slopes, 

Where  graze  the  sheep  and  the  spotted  steer ; 
And  the  winter  restore  the  golden  hopes, 

That  were  trampled  in  a  year. 

On  Friday,  June  13,  I  made  one  of  my  customary  trips 
to  White  House,  in  the  company  of  O'Ganlon.  The  latter 
individual,  in  the  course  of  a  "healthy  dash"  that  he  made 
down  the  railroad  ties,  —  whereby  two  shoes  shied  from  his 
mare's  hoofs,  —  reined  into  a  quicksand  that  threatened  to 
swallow  his  steed.  He  afterward  left  his  sword  at  Summit 
Station,  and  I,  obligingly,  rode  back  three  miles  to  recover 
it.  We  dined  at  Baker's,  where  Glumlcy  sat  beside  the 
baby-face,  pursuant  to  his  art-duties,  and  the  plump,  red- 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  143 

cheeked  miss  sat  beside  me.  O'Ganlon  was' entertained  by 
the  talkative  daughter,  who  drove  him  quite  mad  ;  so  that, 
when  we  resumed  our  horses,  he  insisted  upon  a  second 
"  healthy  dash/'  and  disappeared  through  a  strip  of  woods. 
I  followed,  rationally,  and  had  come  to  a  blacksmith's  shop, 
at  the  corner  of  a  diverging  road,  when  I  was  made  aware 
of  some  startling  occurrence  in  my  rear.  A  mounted  officer 
dashed  past  me,  shouting  some  unintelligible  tidings,  and  he 
was  followed  in  qiiick  succession  by  a  dozen  cavalry -men, 
who  rode  as  if  the  foul  fiend  was  at  their  heels.  Then  came 
a  teamster,  bare-backed,  whose  rent  harness  trailed  in  the 
road,  and  directly  some  wagons  that  were  halted  before  the 
blacksmith's,  wheeled  smartly,  and  rattled  off  towards 
White  House. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  man  ?  "  I  said  to  one  of  these 
lunatics,  hurriedly. 

"  The  Rebels  are  behind !  "  he  screamed,  with  white  lips, 
and  vanished. 

I  thought  that  it  might  be  as  well  to  take  some  other 
road,  and  so  struck  off,  at  a  dapper  pace,  in  the  direction  of 
the  new  landing  at  Putney's  or  "  Garlic."  At  the  same 
instant  I  heard  the  crack  of  carbines  behind,  and  they  had  a 
magical  influence  upon  my  speed.  I  rode  along  a  stretch  of 
chestnut  and  oak  wood,  attached  to  the  famous  Webb  estate, 
and  when  I  came  to  a  rill  that  passed  by  a  little  bridge, 
under  the  way,  turned  up  its  sandy  bed  and  buried  myself 
in  the  under-brush.  A  few  breathless  moments  only  had 
intervened,  when  the  roadway  seemed  shaken  by  a  hundred 
hoofs.  The  imperceptible  horsemen  yelled  like  a  war-party 
of  Camanches,  and  when  they  had  passed,  the  carbines  rang 
ahead,  as  if  some  bloody  work  was  being  done  at  every 
rod. 

I  remained  a  full  hour  under  cover ;  but  as  no  fresh 
approaches  added  to  my  mystery  and  fear,  I  sallied  forth, 
and  kept  the  route  to  Putney's,  with  ears  erect  and  expect- 
ant pulses.  I  had  gone  but  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  when  I 


144  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

discerned,  through  the  gathering  gloom,  a  black,  misshapen 
object,  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  road.  As  it  seemed 
motionless,  I  ventured  closer,  when  the  thing  resolved  to  a 
sutler's  wagon,  charred  and  broken,  and  still  smoking  from 
the  incendiaries'  torch.  Further  on,  more  of  these  burned 
wagons  littered  the  way,  and  in  one  place  two  slain  horses 
marked  the  roadside.  When  I  emerged  upon  the  Hanover 
road,  sounds  of  shrieks  and  shot  issued  from  the  landing  at 
"Garlic,"  and,  in  a  moment,  flames  rose  from  the  woody 
shores  and  reddened  the  evening.  I  knew  by  the  gliding 
blaze  that  vessels  had  been  fired  and  set  adrift,  and  from  my 
place  could  see  the  devouring  element  climbing  rope  and 
shroud.  In  a  twinkling,  a  second  light  appeared  behind  the 
woods  to  my  right,  and  the  intelligence  dawned  upon  me  that 
the  cars  and  houses  at  Tunstall's  Station  had  been  burned. 
By  the  fitful  illumination,  I  rode  tremulously  to  the  old 
head-quarters  at  Black  Creek,  and  as  I  conjectured,  the  depot 
and  train  were  luridly  consuming.  The  vicinity  was  marked 
by  wrecked  sutler's  stores,  the  embers  of  wagons,  and  top- 
pled steeds.  Below  Black  Creek  the  ruin  did  not  extend  : 
but  when  I  came  to  White  House  the  greatest  confusion 
existed.  Sutlers  were  taking  down  their  booths,  transports 
were  slipping  their  cables,  steamers  moving  down  the 
stream.  Stuart  had  made  the  circuit  of  the  Grand  Army  to 
show  Lee  where  the  infantry  could  follow. 


CHAPTER  XTV. 

FEVER    DREAMS    IN    WAE. 

A  SUBTLE  enemy  had  of  late  joined  the  Confederate  cause 
against  the  invaders.  He  was  known  as  Pestilence,  and 
his  footsteps  were  so  soft  that  neither  scout  nor  picket  could 
bar  his  entrance.  His  paths  were  subterranean,  — through 
the  tepid  swamp  water,  the  shallow  graves  of  the  dead  ; 
and  aerial,  —  through  the  stench  of  rotting  animals,  the 
nightly  rniasms  of  bog  and  fen.  His  victims  were  not  pierced, 
or  crushed,  or  mangled,  but  their  deaths  were  not  less  terri- 
ble, because  more  lingering.  They  seemed  to  wither  and 
shrivel  away ;  their  eyes  became  at  first  very  bright,  and 
afterward  lustreless ;  their  skins  grew  hard  and  sallow  ; 
their  lips  faded  to  a  dry  whiteness ;  all  the  fluids  of  the  body 
were  consumed ;  and  they  crumbled  to  corruption  before 
life  had  fairly  gone  from  them. 

This  visitation  has  been,  by  common  consent,  dubbed 
"the  Chickahominy  fever,"  and  some  have  called  it  the 
typhus  fever.  The  troops  called  it  the  "camp  fever,"  and 
it  was  frequently  aggravated  by  affections  of  the  bowels 
and  throat.  The  number  of  persons  that  died  with  it  was 
fabulous.  Some  have  gone  so  far  as  to  say  that  the  army 
could  have  better  afforded  the  slaughter  of  twenty  thousand 
men,  than  the  delay  on  the  Chickahominy.  The  ernbalmers 
were  now  enjoying  their  millennium,  and  a  steam  coffin 
manufactory  was  erected  at  White  House,  where  twenty 
men  worked  day  and  night,  turning  out  hundreds  of  pine 
13  (145) 


146  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NOX-CGMBATANT. 

boxes.  I  had,  occasion,  in  one  of  my  visits  to  the  depot, 
to  repair  to  the  tent  of  one  of  the  embalmers.  He  was  a 
sedate,  grave  person,  and  when  I  saw  him,  standing  over 
the  nude,  hard  corpse,  he  reminded  me  of  the  implacable 
vulture,  looking  into  the  eyes  of  Prometheus.  His  battery 
and  tube  were  pulsing,  like  one's  heart  and  lungs,  and  the 
subject  was  being  drained  at  the  neck.  I  compared  the 
discolored  body  with  the  figure  of  lanthe,  as  revealed  in 
Queen  Mab,  but  failed  to  see  the  beautifulness  of  death. 

"If  you  could  only  make  him  breathe,  Professor,"  said 
an  officer  standing  by. 

The  dry  skin  of  the  embalmer  broke  into  chalky  dimples, 
and  he  grinned  very  much  as  a  corpse  might  do  :  — 

"  Ah  I  "  he  said,  "  then  there  would  be  money  made." 

To  hear  these  embalmers  converse  with  each  other  was 
like  listening  to  the  witch  sayings  in  Macbeth.  It  appeared 
that  the  arch-fiend  of  embalming  was  a  Frenchman  named 
tjonca,  or  something  of  that  kind,  and  all  these  worthies 
professed  to  have  purchased  his  "  system."  They  told 
grisly  anecdotes  of  "operations,"  and  experimented  with 
chemicals,  and  congratulated  each  other  upon  the  fever. 
They  would,  I  think,  have  piled  the  whole  earth  with  cata- 
combs of  stony  corpses,  and  we  should  have  no  more  green 
graves,  but  keep  our  dead  with  us  as  household  ornaments. 

The  negroes  did  not  suffer  with  the  fever,  although  their 
quarters  were  close  and  filthy.  Their  Elysium  had  come  ; 
there  was  no  more  work.  They  slept  and  danced  and 
grinned,  and  these  three  actions  made  up  the  sum  of  their 
existence.  Such  people  to  increase  and  multiply  I  never 
beheld.  There  were  scores  of  new  babies  every  day  ;  they 
appeared  to  be  born  by  twins  and  triplets  ;  they  learned  to 
walk  in  twenty-four  hours  ;  and  their  mothers  were  strong 
and  hearty  in  less  time.  Such  soulless,  lost,  degraded  men 
and  women  did  nowhere  else  exist.  The  divinity  they  never 
had ;  the  human  they  had  forgotten  ;  they  did  no  great 
wrongs,  —  thieving,  quarrelling,  deceiving,  — but  they  failed 


CAMPAIGNS   OF  A  NON-COMBATANT.  147 

to  do  any  rights,  and  their  worship  was  animal,  and  almost 
profane.  They  sang  incongruous  mixtures  of  hymns  and 
field  songs  :  — 

"  Oh!  bruddern,  watch  an'  pray,  watch  an'  pray! 
DC  harvest  am  a  ripcnin'  our  Lord  an'  Marser  say ! 
Oh !  ho !  yo !  dat  ole  coon,  de  serpent,  ho !  oh ! 
Watch  an'  pray !  " 

I  have  heard  them  sing  such  medleys  with  tears  in  their 
eyes,  apparently  fervid  and  rapt.  A  very  gray  old  man 
would  lead  off,  keeping  time  to  the  words  with  his  head  and 
hands  ;  the  mass  joining  in  at  intervals,  and  raising  a  scream- 
ing alleluja.  Directly  they  would  all  rise,  link  hands,  and 
proceed  to  dance  the  accompaniment.  The  motion  would 
be  slow  at  first,  and  the  method  of  singing  maintained ; 
after  a  time  they  would  move  more  rapidly,  shouting  the 
lines  together ;  and  suddenly  becoming  convulsed  with 
strange  excitement,  they  would  toss  up  their  arms,  leap, 
fall,  groan,  and,  seemingly,  lose  consciousness.  Their 
prayers  were  earnest  and  vehement,  but  often  degenerated 
to  mere  howls  and  noises.  Some  of  both  sexes  had  grand 
voices,  that  rang  like  bugles,  and  the  very  impropriety  of 
their  music  made  it  fascinating.  It  used  to  seem  to  me  that 
any  of  the  great  composers  might  have  borrowed  advan- 
tageously some  of  those  original  negro  airs.  In  many 
cases,  their  owners  came  within  the  lines,  registered  their 
allegiance,  and  recovered  the  negroes.  These  were  often 
veritable  Shylocks,  that  claimed  their  pounds  of  flesh,  with 
unblushing  reference  to  the  law.  The  poor  Africs  went 
back  cowed  and  tearful,  and  it  is  probable  that  they  were 
afterward  sent  to  the  far  South,  that  terrible  terra  incognita 
to  a  border  slave. 

Among  the  houses  to  which  I  resorted  was  that  of  a  Mr. 

Hill,  one  mile  from  White  House.     He  had  a  thousand  acres 

of  land  and  a  valuable  fishery  on  the  Pamunkey.      The 

,  latter  was  worth,  in  good  seasons,  two  thousand  dollars  a 


148  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NON-COMBATANT. 

year.  He  had  fished  and  farmed  with  negroes ;  but  these 
had  leagued  to  run  away,  and  he  sent  them  across  the  river 
to  a  second  farm  that  he  owned  in  King  William  County. 
It  was  at  Hill's  house  that  the  widow  Custis  was  visiting 
when  young  Washington  reined  at  the  gate,  on  his  road  to 
Williamsburg.  With  reverent  feelings  I  used  to  regard  the 
old  place,  and  Hill  frequently  stole  away  from  his  formidable 
military  household,  to  talk  with  me  on  the  front  porch. 
Perhaps  in  the  same  moonlights,  with  the  river  shimmering 
at  their  feet,  and  the  grapevine  shadowing  the  creaky 
corners,  —  their  voices  softened,  their  chairs  drawn  very 
close,  their  hands  touching  with  a  thrill,  —  the  young  soldier 
and  his  affianced  had  made  their  courtship.  I  sometimes 
sat  breathless,  thinking  that  their  figures  had  come  back,  and 
that  I  heard  them  whispering. 

Hill  was  a  Virginian,  —  large,  hospitable,  severe,  proud, 
—  and  once  I  ventured  to  speak  upon  the  policy  of  slavery, 
with  a  view  to  develop  his  own  relation  to  the  "institu- 
tion." He  said,  with  the  swaggering  manner  of  his  class, 
that  slavery  was  a  "  domestic  "  institution,  and  that  there- 
fore no  political  law  could  reach  it.  I  insinuated,  quietly, 
that  no  political  law  should  therefore  sustain  it,  and  took 
exception  to  the  idea  that  what  was  domestic  was  therefore 
without  the  province  of  legislation.  When  I  exampled  poly- 
gamy, Hill  became  passionate,  and  asked  if  I  was  an  aboli- 
tionist. I  opined  that  I  was  not,  and  he  so  far  relented  as 
to  say  that  slavery  was  sanctioned  by  divine  and  human 
laws ;  that  it  was  ultimately  to  be  embraced  by  all  white 
nationalities,  and  that  the  Caucasian  was  certain,  in  the 
end,  to  subjugate  and  possess  every  other  race.  He  pointed, 
with  some  shrewdness,  to  the  condition  of  the  Chinese  in 
California  and  Australia,  and  epitomized  the  gradual  enslav- 
ing of  the  Mongol  and  Malay  in  various  quarters  of  the 
world. 

"As  to  our  treatment  of  niggers,"  he  said,  curtly,  "I 
never  prevaricate,  as  some  masters  do,  in  that  respect.  I 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  149 

whip  my  niggers  when  they  want  it  1  If  they  are  saucy, 
or  careless,  or  lazy,  I  have  'em  flogged.  About  twice  a 
year  every  nigger  has  to  be  punished.  If  they  ain't  roped 
over  twice  a  year,  they  take  on  airs  and  want  to  be  gentle- 
men. A  nigger  is  bound  by  no  sentiment  of  duty  or  affec- 
tion. You  must  keep  him  in  trim  by  fear." 

Among  the  victims  of  the  swamp  fever,  were  Major  Lar- 
rabee,  and  Lieutenant-Colonel  Emory,  of  the  Fifth  Wiscon- 
sin regiment ;  I  had  been  indebted  to  them  for  many  a  meal 
and  draught  of  spirits.  I  had  talked  with  each  of  them, 
when  the  camps  were  darkened  and  the  soldiery  asleep. 
Larrabee  was  a  soldier  by  nature,  —  adventurous,  energetic, 
intrepid,  aggressive.  He  had  been  a  country  Judge  in  Wis- 
consin, and  afterwards  a  member  of  Congress.  When  the 
war  commenced,  he  enlisted  as  a  common  soldier,  but 
public  sentiment  forced  the  State  Government  to  make  him 
a  Major.  Emory  was  a  mild,  reflective,  unimpassioned  gen- 
tleman,—  too  modest  to  be  eminent,  too  scrupulous  to  be 
ambitious.  The  men  were  opposites,  but  both  capital  com- 
panions, and  they  were  seized  with  the  fever  about  the 
same  time.  The  Major  was  removed  to  White  House,  and 
I  visited  him  one  day  in  the  hospital  quarters.  Surgeon 
General  Watson,  hospital  commandant,  took  me  through 
the  quarters  ;  there  was  quite  a  town  of  sick  men  ;  they  lay 
in  wall-tents  —  about  twenty  in  a  tent,  —  and  there  were 
daily  deaths  ;  those  that  caught  the  fever,  were  afterwards 
unfit  for  duty,  as  they  took  relapses  on  resuming  the  field. 
The  tents  were  pitched  in  a  damp  cornfield  ;  for  the  Fed- 
erals so  reverenced  their  national  shrines,  that  they  forbade 
White  House  and  lawn  to  be  used  for  hospital  purposes. 
Under  the  best  circumstances,  a  field  hospital  is  a  comfort- 
less place  ;  but  here  the  sun  shone  like  a  furnace  upon  the 
tents,  and  the  rains  drowned  out  the  inmates.  If  a  man  can 
possibly  avoid  it,  let  him  never  go  to  the  hospital :  for  he 
will  be  called  a  "  skulker,"  or  a  "  shyster,"  that  desires  to 
escape  the  impending  battle.  Twenty  hot,  feverish,  tossing 
13* 


150  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    NON-COMBATANT. 

men,  confined  in  a  small  tent,  like  an  oven,  and  exposed  to 
contumely  and  bad  food,  should  get  a  wholesome  horror  of 
war  and  glory. 

So  far  as  I  could  observe  and  learn,  the  authorities  at 
White  House  carried  high  heads,  and  covetous  hands.  In 
brief,  they  lived  like  princes,  and  behaved  like  knaves. 
There  was  one  —  whose  conduct  has  never  been  investi- 
gated —  who  furnished  one  of  the  deserted  mansions  near 
by,  and  brought  a  lady  from  the  North  to  keep  it  in  order. 
He  drove  a  span  that  rivalled  anything  in  Broadway,  and 
his  wines  were  luscious.  His  establishment  reminded  me 
of  that  of  Napoleon  III.  in  the  late  Italian  war,  and  yet,  this 
man  was  receiving  merely  a  Colonel's  pay.  My  impression 
is  that  everybody  at  White  House  robbed  the  Government, 
and  in  the  end,  to  cover  their  delinquencies,  these  scoun- 
drels set  fire  to  an  immense  quantity  of  stores,  and  squared 
their  accounts  thus  :  "  Burned  on  the  Pamunkey,  June  28, 
commissary,  quartermaster's,  and  hospital  stores,  one 
million  dollars." 

The  time  was  now  drawing  to  a  close  that  I  should  pass 
amid  the  familiar  scenes  of  this  region.  The  good  people  at 
Baker's  were  still  kindly  ;  but  having  climbed  into  the  great 
bed  one  night,  I  found  my  legs  aching,  my  brain  violently 
throbbing,  my  chest  full  of  pain  and  my  eyes  weak.  When 
I  woke  in  the  morning  my  lips  were  fevered,  I  could  eat 
nothing,  and  when  I  reached  my  saddle,  it  seemed  that  I 
should  faint.  In  a  word,  the  Chickahominy  fever  had  seized 
upon  me.  My  ride  to  New  Bridge  was  marked  by  great 
agony,  and  during  much  of  the  time  I  was  quite  blind.  I 
turned  off,  at  Gaines's  Mill,  to  rest  at  Captain  Kingwalt's  ; 
but  the  old  gentleman  was  in  the  grip  of  the  ague,  and  I  fore- 
bore  to  trouble  him  with  a  statement  of  my  grievances. 
Skyhiski  made  me  a  cup  of  tea,  which  I  could  not  drink, 
and  Fogg  made  me  lie  on  his  "poncho."  It  was  like  old 
times  come  back,  to  hear  them  all  speak  cheerfully,  and  the 
man  Clover  said  that,  if  there  "  warn't"  a  battle  soon,  he 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  151 

knew  what  he'd  do,  he  did !    he'd  go  home,  straight  as  a 
buck ! 

"  Becoz,"  said  the  man  Clover,  flourishing  his  hands,  "  I 
volunteered  to  fight.  To  fight,  sir !  not  to  dig  and  drive 
team.  Here  we  air,  sir,  stuck  in  the  mud,  burnin'  with 
fever,  livin'  on  hardtack.  And  thair's  Richmond !  Just 
thair !  You  can  chuck  a  stone  at  it,  if  you  mind  to.  A'ter 
awhile  them  rebbils'll  pop  out,  and  fix  us.  Why  ain't  we 
led  up,  sa-a-y  ?  " 

The  man  Clover  represented  common  sentiment  among 
the  troops  at  this  time  ;  but  I  told  him  that  in  all  probability 
he  would  soon  be  gratified  with  a  battle.  My  prediction 
was  so  far  correct,  that  when  I  met  the  man  Clover  on  the 
James  River,  a  week  afterward,  he  said,  with  a  rueful  coun- 
tenance — 

"  Sa-a-a-y  !     It  never  rains  but  it  pours,  does  it  ?  " 

As  I  rode  from  the  camp  of  the  Pennsylvania  Reserves, 
at  noon,  on  the  21st  of  June,  I  seemed  to  feel  a  gloomy 
premonition  of  the  calamities  that  were  shortly  to  fall  upon 
the  "  Army  of  the  Potomac."  I  passed  in  front  of  Hogan 
house  ;  through  the  wood  above  the  mill ;  along  Gaines's 
Lane,  between  his  mansion  arid  his  barn  ;  across  a  creek, 
tributary  to  the  Chickahomiuy  ;  and  up  the  ploughed  hills 
by  a  military  road,  toward  Grapevine  Bridge.  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Heath,  of  the  Fifth  Maine  Regiment,  was  riding 
with  me,  and  we  stopped  at  the  tip  of  an  elevated  field  to 
look  back  upon  the  scene.  I  was  very  sick  and  weary,  and 
I  lay  my  head  upon  the  mane  of  my  nag,  while  Heath  threw 
a  leg  across  his  saddle  pommel,  and  straightened  his  slight 
figure  ;  we  both  gazed  earnestly. 

The  river  lay  in  the  hollow  or  ravine  to  the  left,  and  a  few 
farm-houses  sat  among  the  trees  on  the  hill-tops  beyond.  A 
battery  was  planted  at  each  house,  and  we  could  see  the 
lines  of  red-clay  parapets  marking  the  sites.  From  the  roof 
of  one  of  the  houses  floated  a  speck  of  canvas,  —  the  rev- 
olutionary flag.  A  horseman  or  two  moved  shadow-like 


152  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   KOX-COMBATANT. 

across  a  slope  of  yellow  grain.  Before  and  back  the  woods 
belted  the  landscape,  and  some  pickets  of  both  sides  paced 
the  river  brink  :  they  did  not  fire  upon  each  other. 

Our  side  of  the  Chickahominy  was  not  less  peaceful.  A 
couple  of  batteries  lay  below  us,  in  the  meadows  ;  but  the 
horses  were  dozing  in  the  harness,  and  the  gunners,  stand- 
ing bolt  upright  at  the  breech,  seemed  parts  of  their 
pieces  ;  the  teamsters  lay  grouped  in  the  long  grass.  Im- 
mediately in  front,  Gaines's  Mansion  and  outhouses  spot- 
ted a  hillside,  and  we  could  note  beyond  a  few  white  tents 
shining  through  the  trees.  The  roof  of  the  old  mill 
crouched  between  a  medley  of  wavy  fields  and  woods,  to 
our  right,  and  just  at  our  feet  a  tiny  rill  divided  Gaines's 
Mill  from  our  own.  Behind  us,  over  the  wilderness  of 
swamp  and  bog-timber,  rose  Smith's  redoubt,  with  the  Fed- 
eral flag  flaunting  from  the  rampart. 

"  Townsend,"  said  Heath,  as  he  swept  the  whole  country 
with  his  keen  eye,  "  do  you  know  that  we  are  standing 
upon  historic  ground  ?  " 

He  had  been  a  poet  and  an  orator,  and  he  seemed  to  feel 
the  solemnity  of  the  place. 

"  It  may  become  historic  to-morrow,"  I  replied. 

"  It  is  so  to-day,"  he  said,  earnestly  ;  "  not  from  battle  as 
yet ;  that  rnay  or  may  not  happen  ;  but  in  the  pause  before 
the  storm  there  is  something  grand ;  and  this  is  the  pause." 

He  took  his  soft  beaver  in  his  hand,  and  his  short  red 
hair  stood -pugnaciously  back  from  his  fine  forehead. 

"  The  men  that  have  been  here  already,"  he  added, 
"  consecrated  the  place  ;  young  McClellan,  and  bluff,  bull- 
headed  Franklin  ;  the  one-armed  devil,  Kearney,  and  hand- 
some Joe  Hooker ;  gray,  gristly  Heintzelman ;  white- 
bearded,  insane  Sumner  ;  Stuart,  Lee,  Johnston,  the 
Hills " 

"Why  not,"  said  I,  laughingly,  "Eric  the  red,  —  the 
redoubtable  Heath !  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  said,  with  a  flourish  ;  "  Fate  may  have 
something  in  store  for  me,  as  well  as  for  these." 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NOX-CO3IBATANT.  153 

I  have  thought,  since,  how  terribly  our  light  conversation 
found  verification  in  fact.  If  I  had  said  to  Heath,  that,  at 
the  very  moment,  Jefferson  Davis  and  his  Commander-in- 
chief  were  sitting  in  the  dwelling  opposite,  reconnoitring 
and  consulting;  that,  even  now,  their  telescopes  were 
directed  upon  us  ;  that  the  effect  of  their  counsel  was  to  be 
manifest  in  less  than  a  week ;  that  one  of  the  bloodiest 
battles  of  modern  times  was  to  be  fought  beside  and  around 
us  ;  that  six  days  of  the  most  terrible  fighting  known  in 
history  were  to  ensue ;  that  my  friend  and  comrade  was 
standing  upon  the  same  clods  which  would  be  reddened,  at 
his  next  coming,  with  his  heart's  blood ;  and  that  the 
trenches  were  to  yawn  beneath  his  hoofs,  to  swallow  him- 
self and  his  steed, — if  I  had  foretold  these  things  as  they 
were  to  occur,  I  wonder  if  the  "  pause  before  the  storm  " 
would  have  been  less  awful,  and  our  ride  campward  less 
sedate.  Poor  Heath  !  Gallant  New  Englander !  he  called 
at  my  bedside,  the  sixth  day  following,  as  I  lay  full 
of  pain,  fear,  and  fever,  and  after  he  bade  me  good  by,  I 
heard  his  horse's  hoofs  ringing  down  the  lane.  Ten  minutes 
afterward  he  was  shot  through  the  head. 

When  I  reached  Michie's,  at  three  o'clock,  I  had  to  -be 
helped  from  the  saddle,  and  the  fever  was  raging  in  my 
whole  body  before  nightfall.  My  hands  were  flushed,  my 
face  hot,  but  my  feet  were  quite  cold,  and  I  was  seized  with 
chills  that  seemed  to  shake  my  teeth  from  my  head.  Mrs. 
Michie  made  me  a  bowl  of  scorching  tea,  and  one  of  the 
black-girls  bathed  my  limbs  in  boiling  water.  The  fever 
dreams  came  to  me  that  night,  in  snatches  of  burning  sleep, 
and  toward  morning  I  lay  restlessly  awake,  moving  from, 
side  to  side,  famishing  for  drink,  but  rejecting  it,  when  they 
brought  it  to  my  lips.  The  next  day,  my  kind  hostess  gave, 
me  some  nourishing  soup,  but  after  a  vain  effort  to  partake, 
of  it,  I  was  compelled  to  put  it  aside,  Q'Gaulon  procured; 
some  pickled  fruit  and  vegetables  from  a  sutler,  whigh  I  3te 
voraciously,  quaffing- 'the  vinegar  like  wine.  Some  of  my 


154:  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NOX-CO3IBATANT. 

regimental  friends  heard  of  my  illness,  and  they  sent  me 
quiet  luxuries,  which  gladdened  me,  though  I  did  not  eat. 
During  the  day  I  had  some  moments  of  ease,  when  I  tried  to 
read.  There  was  a  copy  of  Wordsworth's  poems  in  the  house, 
and  I  used  to  repeat  stanzas  from  "  Peter  Bell,"  till  they  rang, 
in  eddies  of  rhyme,  through  my  weak  brain,  and  continued  to 
scan  and  jangle  far  into  the  nights.  Some  of  these  fever- 
dreams  were  like  delusions  in  delirium  :  peopled  with  mon- 
sters, that  grinned  and  growled.  Little  black  globules  used 
to  leer  from  corners,  and  after  a  time  they  began  to  revolve 
toward  me,  increasing  as  they  came,  and  at  length  rolling 
like  mountains  of  surge.  I  frequently  woke  with  a 
scream,  and  found  my  body  in  profuse  perspiration.  There 
were  fiery  snakes,  also,  that,  at  first,  moved  slowly  around 
me,  arid  I  followed  them  with  red  and  terrified  eyes.  After 
awhile  they  flashed  in  circles  of  lightning,  and  hissed  show- 
ers of  sparks,  until  I  became  quite  crazed  with  fear.  The 
most  horrible  apparitions  used  to  come  to  my  bedside,  and 
if  I  dropped  to  sleep  with  any  thought  half  formed  or  half 
developed,  the  odd  half  of  that  thought  became  impregnated, 
somehow,  and  straightway  loomed  up  a  goblin,  or  a  giant, 
or  a  grotesque  something,  that  proceeded  to  torture  me, 
like  a  sort  of  Frankenstein,  for  having  made  it.  Amid  all 
these  ghastly  things,  there  came  beautiful  glimpses  of  form, 
scene,  and  sensation,  that  straightway  changed  to  horrors. 
I  remember,  for  example,  that  I  was  gliding  down  a  stream, 
where  the  boughs  overhead  were  as  shady  as  the  waters, 
and  there  were  holy  eyes  that  seemed  to  cool  my  fever ; 
but  suddenly  the  stream  became  choked  with  corpses,  that 
entangled  their  dead  limbs  with  mine,  until  I  strangled  and 
called  aloud, —  waking  up  O'Ganlon  a.nd  some  reporters 
who  proposed  to  give  me  morphine,  that  I  might  not  alarm 
the  house. 

IIow  the  poor  soldiers  fared,  in  the  hot  hospitals,  I  shud- 
der to  think  ;  but  a  more  merciful  decree  spared  my  life, 
and  kind  treatment  met  me  at  every  hand.  Otherwise,  I  be- 


CAMPAIGNS   OF  A   NON-COMBATANT.  155 

lieve,  I  should  not  be  alive  to-day  to  write  this  story ; 
for  the  fever  had  seized  me  in  its  severest  form,  and  I  had 
almost  tutored  myself  to  look  upon  my  end,  far  from  my 
home  and  on  the  very  eve  of  my  manhood. 

O'Ganlon,  at  last,  resolved  to  send  me  to  White  House, 
and  started  thither  one  day,  to  obtain  a  berth  for  rne  upon 
a  Sanitary  steamer.  The  next  day  an  ambulance  came  to 
the  door.  I  tried  to  sit  up  in  bed,  and  succeeded  ;  I  feebly 
robed  myself  and  staggered  to  the  stairs.  I  crawled, 
rather  than  walked,  to  the  hall  below  ;  but  when  I  took  a 
chair,  and  felt  the  cool  breeze  from  the  oaks  fanning  my 
hair,  I  seemed  to  know  that  I  should  get  well. 

"Boom!  Boom!  Boom!"  pealed  some  cannon  at  the 
moment,  and  all  the  windows  shook  with  the  concussion. 

Directly  we  heard  volleys  of  musketry,  and  then  the 
camps  were  astir.  Horses  went  hither  and  thither  ;  signal 
flags  flashed  to-and-fro  ;  a  battery  of  the  Reserve  Artillery 
dashed  down  the  lane. 

I  felt  my  strength  coming  back  with  the  excitement ;  I 
even  smiled  feebly  as  the  guns  thundered  past. 

"  Take  away  your  ambulance,  old  fellow,"  I  said,  "  I 
shan't  go  home  till  I  see  a  battle." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

TWO    DAYS     OF    BATTLE. 

THE  Confederates  had  been  waiting1  two  months  for 
McClellan's  advance.  Emboldened  by  his  delay  they  had 
gathered  the  whole  of  their  available  strength  from  remote 
Tennessee,  from  the  Mississippi,  and  from  the  coast,  until, 
confident  and  powerful,  they  crossed  Meadow  Bridge  on  the 
26th  of  June,  1862,  and  drove  in  our  right  wing  at  Mechan- 
ics ville.  The  reserves  of  Gen.  McCall  were  stationed  here ; 
they  made  a  wavering  resistance,  —  wherein  four  companies 
of  Bucktails  were  captured  bodily,  — and  fell  back  at  night- 
fall upon  Porter's  Corps,  at  Gaines's  Mill.  Fitz  John 
Porter  commanded  the  brigades  of  Gens.  Sykes  and  Mor- 
rell,  —  the  former  made  up  solely  of  regulars.  lie  appeared 
to  have  been  ignorant  of  the  strength  of  the  attacking 
party,  and  he  telegraphed  to  McClellan,  early  on  Thursday 
evening*  that  he  required  no  reinforcements,  and  that  he 
could  hold  his  ground.  The  next  morning  he  was  attacked 
in  front  and  flank  ;  Stewart's  cavalry  fell  on  his  right,  and 
turned  it  at  Old  Church.  He  formed  at  noon  in  new  line 
of  battle,  from  Gaines's  House,  along  the  Mill  Road  to  New 
Coal  Harbor ;  but  stubbornly  persisted  in  the  belief  that  he 
could  not  be  beaten.  By  three  o'clock  he  had  been  driven 
back  two  miles,  and  all  his  energies  were  unavailing  to 
recover  a  foot  of  ground.  He  hurled  lancers  and  cavalry 
upon  the  masses  of  Jackson  and  the  Hills,  but  the  butter- 
nut infantry  formed  impenetrable  squares,  hemmed  in  with 

(156) 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT.  157 

rods  of  steel,  and  as  the  horsemen  galloped  around  them, 
searching  for  previous  points,  they  were  swept  from  their 
saddles  with  volleys  of  musketry.  He  directed  the  terrible 
fire  of  his  artillery  upon  them,  but  though  the  gray  footmen 
fell  in  heaps,  they  steadily  advanced,  closing  up  the  gaps, 
and  their  lines  were  like  long  stretches  of  blaze  and  ball. 
Their  fire  never  slackened  nor  abated.  They  loaded  and 
moved  forward,  column  on  column,  like  so  many  immortals 
that  could  not  be  vanquished.  The  scene  from  the  balloon, 
as  Lowe  informed  me,  was  awful  beyond  all  comparison,  — 
of  puffing  shells  and  shrieking  shrapnel,  with  volleys  that 
shattered  the  hills  and  filled  the  air  with  deathly  whispers. 
Infantry,  artillery,  and  horse  turned  the  Federal  right  from 
time  to  time,  and  to  preserve  their  order  of  battle  the  whole 
line  felt  back  toward  Grapevine  Bridge.  At  five  o'clock 
Slocum's  Division  of  volunteers  crossed  the  creek  from  the 
south  side,  and  made  a  desperate  dash  upon  the  solid  col- 
umns of  the  Confederates.  At  the  same  time  Toombs's 
Georgia  Brigade  charged  Smith's  redoubt  from  the  south 
side,  and  there  was  a  probability  of  the  whole  of  both 
armies  engaging  before  dark. 

My  fever  of  body  had  so  much  relinquished  to  my  fever 
of  mind,  that  at  three  o'clock  I  called  for  my  horse,  and 
determined  to  cross  the  bridge,  that  I  might  witness  the 
battle. 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  I  could  make  my  way  along 
the  narrow  corduroy,  for  hundreds  of  wounded  were  limp- 
ing from  the  field  to  the  safe  side,  and  ammunition  wagons 
were  passing  the  other  way,  driven  by  reckless  drivers  who 
should  have  been  blown  up  momentarily.  Before  I  had 
reached  the  north  side  of  the  creek,  an  immense  throng  of 
panic-stricken  people*  came  surging  down  the  slippery 
bridge.  A  few  carried  muskets,  but  I  saw  several  wantonly 
throw  their  pieces  into  the  flood,  and  as  the  mass  were 
unarmed,  I  inferred  that  they  had  made  similar  dispositions. 
Fear,  anguish,  cowardice,  despair,  disgust,  were  the  predom- 
14 


158  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NOX-COMBATAXT. 

inant  expressions  of  the  upturned  faces.  The  gaunt  trees, 
towering  from  the  current,  cast  a  solomn  shadow  upon  the 
moving  throng,  and  as  the  evening  dimness  was  falling 
around  them,  it  almost  seemed  that  they  were  engulfed  in 
some  cataract.  I  reined  my  horse  close  to  the  side  of  a 
team,  that  I  might  not  be  borne  backward  by  the  crowd ; 
but  some  of  the  lawless  fugitives  seized  him  by  the  bridle, 
and  others  attempted  to  pull  me  from  the  saddle. 

"  Gi'  up  that  hoss  !  "  said  one,  "  what  business  you  got 
wi'  a  hoss  ?  " 

"  That's  my  critter,  and  I  am  in  for  a  ride  ;  so  you  get 
off!  "  said  another. 

I  spurred  my  pony  vigorously  with  the  left  foot,  and  with 
the  right  struck  the  man  at  the  bridle  under  the  chin.  The 
thick  column  parted  left  and  right,  and  though  a  howl  of 
hate  pufsued  me,  I  kept  straight  to  the  bank,  cleared  the 
swamp,  and  took  the  military  route  parallel  with  the  creek, 
toward  the  nearest  eminence.  At  every  step  of  the  way  I 
met  wounded  persons.  A  horseman  rode  past  me,  leaning 
'over  his  pommel,  with  blood  streaming  from  his  mouth  and 
hanging  in  gouts  from  his  saturated  beard.  The  day  had 
been  intensely  hot  and  black  boys  were  besetting  the 
wounded  with  buckets  of  cool  lemonade.  It  was  a  common 
occurrence  for  the  couples  that  carried  the  wounded  on 
stretchers  to  stop  on  the  way,  purchase  a  glass  of  the  bev- 
erage, and  drink  it.  Sometimes  the  blankets  on  the 
stretchers  were  closely  folded,  and  then  I  knew  that  the 
man  within  was  dead.  A  little  fellow,  who  used  his  sword 
for  a  cane,  stopped  me  on  the  road,  and  said  — 

"  See  yer !  This  is  the  ball  that  jes'  fell  out  o'  my 
boot." 

He  handed  me  a  lump  of  lead  as  1aig  as  my  thumb,  and 
pointed  to  a  rent  in  his  pantaloons,  whence  the  drops  rolled 
down  his  boots. 

"  I  wouldn't  part  with  that  for  suthin'  handsome,"  he 
said  ;  "  it'll  be  ,nice  to  hev  to  hum." 

As  I  cantered  away  he  shouted  after  me  — 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT.  159 

"  Be  sure  you  spell  my  name  right !  it's  Smith,  with  an 

<E' S-M-I-T-H-E.  " 

In  one  place  I  met  five  drunken  men  escorting  a  wounded 
sergeant ;  the  latter  had  been  shot  in  the  jaw,  and  when  he 
attempted  to  speak,  the  blood  choked  his  articulation. 

"  You  let  go  him,  pardner,"  said  one  of  the  staggering 
brutes,  "  he's  not  your  sergeant.  Go  'way  !  " 

"Now,  sergeant,"  said  the  other,  idiotically,  "I'll  see 
you  all  right,  sergeant.  Come,  Bill,  fetch  him  over  to  the 
corn-crib  and  we'll  give  him  a  drink." 

Here  the  first  speaker  struck  the  second,  and  the  ser- 
geant, in  wrath,  knocked  them  both  down.  All  this  time 
the  enemy's  cannon  were  booming  close  at  hand. 

I  came  to  an  officer  of  rank,  whose  shoulder-emblem  I 
could  not  distinguish,  riding  upon  a  limping  field-horse. 
Four  men  held  him  to  his  seat,  and  a  fifth  led  the  animal. 
The  officer  was  evidently  wounded,  though  he  did  not  seem 
to  be  bleeding,  and  the  dust  of  battle  had  settled  upon  his 
blanched,  stiffening  face,  like  grave-mould  upon  a  corpse. 
He  was  swaying  in  the  saddle,  and  his  hair  —  for  he  was 
bare-headed  —  shook  across  his  white  eyeballs.  He  re- 
minded me  of  the  famous  Cid,  whose  bod}r  was  sent  forth  to 
scare  the  Saracens. 

A  mile  or  more  from  Grapevine  Bridge,  on  a  hill-top, 
lay  a  frame  farm-house,  with  cherry  trees  encircling  it,  and 
along  the  declivity  of  the  hill  were  some  cabins,  corn-sheds, 
and  corn-bins.  The  house  was  now  a  Surgeon's  head- 
quarters, and  the  wounded  lay  in  the  yard  and  lane,  under 
the  shade,  waiting  their  turns  to  be  hacked  and  maimed.  I 
caught  a  glimpse  through  the  door,  of  the  butchers  and 
their  victims ;  some  curious  people  were  peeping  through 
the  windows  at  the  operation.  As  the  processions  of 
freshly  wounded  went  by,  the  poor  fellows,  lying  on 
their  backs,  looked  mutely  at  me,  and  their  great  eyes 
smote  my  heart. 

Something  has  been   written   in  the  course  of  the  war 


100  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

upon  straggling  from  the  ranks,  during  battle.  But  I  have 
seen  nothing  that  conveys  an  adequate  idea  of  the  number 
of  cowards  and  idlers  that  so  stroll  off.  In  this  instance, 
I  met  squads,  companies,  almost  regiments  of  them.  Some 
came  boldly  along  the  road  ;  others  skulked  in  woods,  and 
made  long  detours  to  escape  detection  ;  a  few  were  com- 
posedly playing  cards,  or  heating  their  coffee,  or  discussing 
the  order  and  consequences  of  the  fight.  The  rolling 
drums,  the  constant  clatter  of  file  and  volley-firing, —  noth- 
ing could  remind  them  of  the  requirements  of  the  time  and 
their  own  infamy.  Their  appreciation  of  duty  and  honor 
seemed  to  have  been  forgotten  ;  neither  hate,  ambition,  nor 
patriotism  could  force  them  back  ;  but  when  the  columns 
of  mounted  provosts  charged  upon  them,  they  sullenly  re- 
sumed their  muskets  and  returned  to  the  field.  At  the  foot 
of  the  hill  to  which  I  have  referred  the  ammunition  wagons 
lay  in  long  lines,  with  the  horses'  heads  turned  from  the 
fight.  A  little  beyond  stood  the  ambulances  ;  and  between 
both  sets  of  vehicles,  fatigue-parties  were  going  and  re- 
turning to  and  from  the  field.  At  the  top  of  the  next  hill 
sat  many  of  the  Federal  batteries,  and  I  was  admonished 
by  the  shriek  of 'shells  that  passed  over  my  head  and  burst 
far  behind  me,  that  I  was  again  to  look  upon  carnage  and 
share  the  perils  of  the  soldier. 

The  question  at  once  occurred  to  me  :  Can  I  stand  fire  ? 
Having  for  some  months  penned  daily  paragraphs  relative 
to  death,  courage,  and  victory,  I  was  surprised  to  fi«d  that 
those  words  were  now  unusually  significant.  "  Death  " 
was  a  syllable  to  me  before  ;  it  was  a  whole  dictionary 
now.  "  Courage  "  was  natural  to  every  man  a  week  ago  ; 
it  was  rarer  than  genius  to-day.  "  Victory  "  was  the  first 
word  in  the  lexicon  of  youth  yesterday  noon  ;  "  discretion" 
and  "safety"  were  at  present  of  infinitely  more  conse- 
quence. I  resolved,  notwithstanding  these  qualms,  to  ven- 
ture to  the  hill-top  :  but  at  every  step  flitting  projectiles 
took  my  breath.  The  music  of  the  battle-field,  I  have  often 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NON-COMBATANT.  1G1 

thought,  should  be  introduced  in  opera.  Not  the  drum, 
the  bugle,  or  the  fife,  though  these  are  thrilling,  after 
their  fashion  ;  but  the  music  of  modern  ordnance  and  pro- 
jectile, the  beautiful  whistle  of  the  minie-ball,  the  howl  of 
shell  that  makes  unearthly  havoc  with  the  air,  the  whiz-z-z 
of  solid  shot,  the  chirp  of  bullets,  the  scream  of  grape  and 
canister,  the  yell  of  immense  conical  cylinders,  that  fall  like 
redhot  stoves  and  spout  burning  coals. 

All  these  passed  over,  beside,  beneath,  befoi-e,  behind 
me.  I  seemed  to  be  an  invulnerable  something  at  whom 
some  cunning  juggler  was  tossing  steel,  with  an  intent  to 
impinge  upon,  not  to  strike  him.  I  rode  like  one  with  his 
life  in  his  hand,  and,  so  far^as  I  remember,  seemed  to  think 
of  nothing.  No  fear,  per  se ;  no  regret ;  no  adventure  ; 
only  expectancy.  It  was  the  expectancy  .of  a  shot,  a  chok- 
ing, a  loud  cry,  a  stiffening,  a  dead,  dull  tumble,  a  quiver, 
and  —  blindness.  But  with  this  was  mingled  a  sort  of  en- 
joyment, like  that  of  the  daring  gamester,  who  has  played 
his  soul  and  is  waiting  for  the  decision  of  the  cards.  I 
felt  all  his  suspense,  more  than  his  hope  ;  and  withal, 
there  was  excitement  in  the  play.  Now  a  whistling  ball 
seemed  to  pass  just  under  my  ear,  and  before  I  commenced 
to  congratulate  myself  upon  the  escape,  a  shell,  with  a 
showery  and  revolving  fuse,  appeared  to  take  the  top  off 
my  head.  Then  my  heart  expanded  and  contracted,  and 
somehow  I  found  myself  conning  rhymes.  At  each  clip- 
ping ball, —  for  I  could  hear  them  coming, —  a  sort  of  cold- 
ness and  paleness  rose  to  the  very  roots  of  my  hair,  and 
was  then  replaced  by  a  hot  flush.  I  caught  myself  laugh- 
ing, syllabically,  and  shrugging  my  shoulders,  fitfully. 
Once,  the  rhyme  that  came  to  my  lips  —  for  I  am  sure 
there  was  no  mind  in  the  iteration  —  was  the  simple 
nursery  prayer  — 

"Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep," 
14* 


102  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT. 

and  I  continued  to  say  "  down  to  sleep,"  "  down  to  sleep," 
"  down  to  sleep,"  till  I  discovered  myself,  when  I  ceased. 
Then  a  shell,  apparently  just  in  range,  dashed  toward  me, 
and  the  words  spasmodically  leaped  up  :  "  Now's  your 
time.  This  is  your  billet."  With  the  same  insane  perti- 
nacity I  continued  to  repeat  "  Now's  'your  time,  now's 
your  time,"  and  "billet,  billet,  billet,"  till  at  last  I  camo 
up  to  the  nearest  battery,  where  I  could  look  over  the  crest 
of  the  hill ;  and  as  if  I  had  looked  into  the  crater  of  a  vol- 
cano, or  down  the  fabled  abyss  into  hell,  the  whole  grand 
horror  of  a  battle  burst  upon  my  sight.  For  a  moment  I 
could  neither  feel  nor  think.  I  scarcely  beheld,  or  behold- 
ing did  not  understand  or  perceive.  Only  the  roar  of  guns, 
the  blaze  that  flashed  along  a  zigzag  line  and  was  straight- 
way smothered  in  smoke,  the  creek  lying  glassily  beneath 
me,  the  gathering  twilight,  and  the  brownish  blue  of  woods  ! 
I  only  knew  that  some  thousands  of  fiends,  were  playing 
with  fire  and  tossing  brands  at  heaven, —  that  some  pleas- 
ant slopes,  dells,  and  highlands  were  lit  as  if  the  conflagra- 
tion of  universes  had  commenced.  There  is  a  passage  of 
Holy  Writ  that  comes  to  my  mind  as  I  write,  which  explains 
the  sensation  of  the  time  better  than  I  can  do  :  — 

"He  opened  the  bottomless  pit ;  and  there  arose  a  smoke  out. 
of  the  pit,  as  the  smoke  of  a  great  furnace  •  and  the  sun  and 
the  air  were  darkened  by  reason  of  the  smoke  of  the  pit. 

"And  there  came  out  of  the  smoke  locusts  upon  the  earth."  — 
Revelation,  ix.  2,  3. 

In  a  few  moments,  when  I  was  able  to  compose  myself, 
the  veil  of  cloud  blew  away  or  dissolved,  and  I  could  see 
fragments  of  the  long  columns  of  infantry.  Then  from  the 
far  end  of  the  lines  puffed  smoke,  and  from  man  to  man  the 
puif  ran  down  each  line,  enveloping  the  columns  again,  so 
that  they  were  alternately  visible  and  invisible.  At  points 
between  the  masses  of  infantry  lay  field-pieces,  throbbing 
with  rapid  deliveries,  and  emitting  volumes  of  white  steam. 
Now  and  then  the  firing  slackened  for  a  short  time,  when  I 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  163 

could  remark  the  Federal  line,  fringed  with  bayonets, 
stretching  from  the  low  meadow  on  the  left,  up  the  slope, 
over  the  ridge,  up  and  down  the  crest,  until  its  right  disap- 
peared in  the  gloaming  of  wood  and  distance.  Standards 
flapped  here  and  there  above  the  column,  and  I  knew,  from 
the  fact  that  the  line  became  momentarily  more  distinct,  that 
the  Federals  were  falling  stubbornly  back.  At  times  a  bat- 
tery would  dash  a  hundred  yards  forward,  unlimber,  and 
fire  a  score  of  times,  and  directly  would  return  two  hundred 
yards  and  blaze  again.  I  saw  a  regiment  of  lancers  gather 
at  the  foot  of  a  protecting  swell  of  field  ;  the  bugle  rang 
thrice,  the  red  pennons  went  upward  like  so  many  song 
birds,  the  mass  turned  the  crest  and  disappeared,  then  the 
whole  artillery  belched  and  bellowed.  In  twenty  minutes  a 
broken,  straggling,  feeble  group  of  horsemen  returned  ;  the 
red  pennons  still  fluttered,  but  I  knew  that  they  were  redder 
for  the  blood  that  dyed  them.  Finally,  the  Federal  infantry 
fell  back  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  on  which  I  stood  ;  all  the 
batteries  were  clustering  around  me,  and  suddenly  a  column 
of  men  shot  up  from  the  long  sweep  of  the  abandoned  hill, 
with  batteries  on  the  left  and  right.  Their  muskets  were 
turned  towards  us,  a  crash  and  a  whiff  of  smoke  swept  from 
flank  to  flank,  and  the  air  around  me  rained  buck,  slug, 
bullet,  and  ball ! 

The  incidents  that  now  occurred  in  rapid  succession  were 
so  thrilling  and  absorbing  that  my  solicitude  was  lost  in 
their  grandeur.  I  sat  like  one  dumb,  with  my  soul  in  my 
eyes  and  my  ears  stunned,  watching  the  terrible  column  of 
Confederates.  Each  party  was  now  straining  every  energy, 
—  the  one  for  victory,  the  other  against  annihilation.  The 
darkness  was  closing  in,  and  neither  cared  to  prolong  the 
contest  after  night.  The  Confederates,  therefore,  aimed  to 
finish  their  success  with  the  rout  or  capture  of  the  Fed- 
erals, and  the  Federals  aimed  to  maintain  their  ground 
till  nightfall.  The  musketry  was  close,  accurate,  and  unin- 
terrupted. Every  second  was  marked  by  a  discharge,  — 


1G4  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT. 

the  one  firing,  the  other  replying  proinply.  No  attempt 
was  now  made  to  remove  the  wounded  ;  the  coolness  of  the 
fight  had  gone  by,  and  we  witnessed  only  its  fury.  The 
stragglers  seemed  to  appreciate  the  desperate  emergency, 
and  came  voluntarily  back  to  relieve  their  comrades.  The 
cavalry  was  massed,  and  collected  for  another  grand  charge. 
Like  a  black  shadow  gliding  up  the  darkening  hillside,  they 
precipitated  themselves  upon  the  columns  :  the  musketry 
ceased  for  the  time,  and  shrieks,  steel  strokes,  the  crack  of 
carbines  and  revolvers  succeeded.  Shattered,  humiliated, 
sullen,  the  horse  wheeled  and  returned.  Then  the  guns 
thundered  again,  and  by  the  blaze  of  the  pieces,  the  clods 
and  turf  were  revealed,  fitfully  strewn  with  men  and 
horses. 

The  vicinity  of  my  position  now  exhibited  traces  of  the 
battle.  A  caisson  burst  close  by,  and  I  heard  the  howl  of 
dying  wretches,  as  the  fires  flashed  like  meteors.  A  solid 
shot  struck  a  field-carriage  not  thirty  yards  from  my  feet, 
and  one  of  the  flying  splinters  spitted  a  gunner  as  if  he  had 
been  pierced  by  an  arrow.  An  artillery-man  was  standing 
with  folded  arms  so  near  that  I  could  have  reached  to  touch 
him  ;  a  whistle  and  a  thumping  shock  and  he  fell  beneath 
my  nag's  head.  I  wonder,  as  I  calmly  recall  these  episodes 
now,  how  I  escaped  the  death  that  played  about  me,  chilled 
me,  thrilled  me,  — but  spared  me  !  "  They  are  fixing  bay- 
onets for  a  charge.  My  God !  See  them  come  down  the 
hill." 

In  the  gathering  darkness,  through  the  thick  smoke,  I 
saw  or  seemed  to  see  the  interminable  column  roll  steadily 
downward.  I  fancied  that  I  beheld  great  gaps  cut  in  their 
ranks  though  closing  solidly  up,  like  the  imperishable  Gorgon. 
I  may  have  heard  some  of  this  next  day,  and  so  confounded 
the  testimonies  of  eye  and  ear.  But  I  knew  that  there  was 
a  charge,  and  that  the  drivers  were  ordered  to  stand  by 
their  saddles,  to  run  off  the  guns  at  any  moment.  The 
descent  and  bottom  below  me,  were  now  all  ablaze,  and 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  165 

directly  above  the  din  of  cannon,  rifle,  and  pistol,  I  heard  a 
great  cheer,  as  of  some  salvation  achieved. 

"  The  Eebels  are  repulsed  !     We  have  saved  the  guns  !  " 

A  cheer  greeted  this  announcement  from  the  battery-men 
around  me.  They  reloaded,  rammed,  swabbed,  and  fired, 
with  naked  arms,  and  drops  of  sweat  furrowed  the  powder- 
stains  upon  their  faces.  The  horses  stood  motionless,  quiv- 
ering not  half  so  much  as  the  pieces.  The  gristly  officers 
held  to  their  match-strings,  smothering  the  excitement  of 
the  time.  All  at  once  there  was  a  running  hither  and 
thither,  a  pause  in  the  thunder,  a  quick  consultation  — 

"  'Sdeath  !     They  have  flanked  us  again." 

In  an  instant  I  seemed  overwhelmed  with  men.  For  a 
moment  I  thought  the  enemy  had  surrounded  us. 

"  It's  all  up,"  said  one  ;  "  I  shall  cross  the  river." 

I  wheeled  my  horse,  fell  in  with  the  stream  of  fugitives, 
and  was  borne  swiftly  through  field  and  lane  and  trampled 
fence  to  the  swampy  margin  of  the  Chickahominy.  At 
every  step  the  shell  fell  in  and  among  the  fugitives,  adding 
to  their  panic.  I  saw  officers  who  had  forgotten  their  regi- 
ments or  had  been  deserted  by  them,  wending  with  the 
mass.  The  wounded  fell  and  were  trodden  upon.  Personal 
exhibitions  of  valor  and  determination  there  were  ;  but  the 
main  body  had  lost  heart,  and  were  weary  and  hungry. 

As  we  approached  the  bridge,  there  was  confusion  and  al- 
tercation ahead.  The  people  were  borne  back  upon  me. 
Curses  and  threats  ensued. 

"  It  is  the  Provost-guard,"  said  a  fugitive,  "  driving  back 
the  boys." 

"Go  back!"  called  a  voice  ahead.  "I'll  blow  you  to 
h — 11,  if  you  don't  go  back  !  Not  a  man  shall  cross  the 
bridge  without  orders  !  " 

The  stragglers  were  variously,  affected  by  this  intelligence. 
Some  cursed  and  threatened ;  some  of  the  wounded  blub- 
bered as  they  leaned  languidly  upon  the  shoulders  of  their 
comrades.  Others  stoically  threw  themselves  on  the 


1G6  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

ground  and  tried  to  sleep.  One  man  called  aloud  that  the 
"boys  "  were  stronger  than  the  Provosts,  and  that,  there- 
fore, the  "  boys  "  ought  to  "  go  in  and  win." 

"Where's  the  man  that  wants  to  mutiny?"  said  the 
voice  ahead  ;  "  let  me  see  him  !  " 

The  man  slipped  away  ;  for  the  Provost  officer  spoke  as 
though  he  meant  all  he  said. 

"Nobody  wants  to  mutiny  I"  called  others. 

"  Three  cheers  for  the  Union."    • 

The  wounded  and  well  threw  up  their  hats  together,  and 
made  a  sickly  hurrah.  The  grim  officer  relented,  and  he 
shouted  stentoriously  that  he  would  take  the  responsibility 
of  passing  the  wounded.  These  gathered  themselves  up 
and  pushed  through  the  throng ;  but  many  skulkers  plead 
injuries,  and  so  escaped.  When  I  attempted  to  follow,  on 
horseback,  hands  were  laid  upon  me  and  I  was  refused  exit. 
In  that  hour  of  terror  and  sadness,  there  were  yet  jests  and 
loud  laughter.  However  keenly  I  felt  these  things,  I  had 
learned  that  modesty  amounted  to  little  in  the  army  ;  so  I 
pushed  my  nag  steadily  forward  and  scattered  the  camp 
vernacular,  in  the  shape  of  imprecations,  left  and  right. 

"Colonel,"  I  called  to  the  officer  in  command,  as  the  line 
of  bayonets  edged  me  in,  "  may  I  pass  out  ?  I  am  a  civil- 
ian !  " 

"  No  !  "  said  the  Colonel,  wrathfully.  ".This  is  no  place 
for  a  civilian." 

"  That's  why  I  want  to  get  away." 

"Pass  out!" 

I  followed  the  winding  of  the  woods  to  Woodbury's 
Bridge,  —  the  next  above  Grapevine  Bridge.  The  ap- 
proaches were  clogged  with  wagons  and  field-pieces,  and  I 
understood  that  some  panic-stricken  people  had  pulled  up 
some  of  the  timbers  to  prevent  a  fancied  pursuit.  Along 
the  sides  of  the  bridge  many  of  the  wounded  were  washing 
their  wounds  in  the  water,  and  the  cries  of  the  teamsters 
echoed  weirdly  through  the  trees  that  grew  in  the  river. 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  167 

At  nine  o'clock,  we  got  under  way,  — horsemen,  batteries, 
ambulances,  ammunition  teams,  infantry,  and  finally  some 
great  siege  32s.  that  had  been  hauled  from  Gaines's  House. 
One  of  these  pieces  broke  down  the  timbers  again,  and  my 
impression  is  that  it  was  cast  into  the  current.  When  we 
emerged  from  the  swamp  timber,  the  hills  before  us  were 
found  brilliantly  illuminated  with  burning  camps.  I  made 
toward  head-quarters,  in  one  of  Trent's  fields ;  but  all  the 
tents  save  one  had  been  taken  down,  and  lines  of  white-cov- 
ered wagons  stretched  southward  until  they  were  lost  in 
the  shadows.  The  tent  of  General  McClellan  alone 
remained,  and  beneath  an  arbor  of  pine  boughs,  close  at 
hand,  he  sat,  with  his  Corps  Commanders  and  Aides,  hold- 
ing a  council  of  war.  A  ruddy  fire  lit  up  the  historical 
group,  and  I  thought  at  the  time,  as  I  have  said  a  hundred 
times  since,  that  the  consultation  might  be  selected  for  a 
grand  national  painting.  The  crisis,  the  hour,  the  adjuncts, 
the  renowned  participants,  peculiarly  fit  it  for  pictorial  com- 
memoration. 

The  young  commander  sat  in  a  chair,  in  full  uniform,  un- 
covered. Heintzelman  was  kneeling  upon  a  fagot,  ear- 
nestly speaking.  Do  Joinville  sat  apart,  by  the  fire,  exam- 
ining a  map.  Fitz  John  Porter  was  standing  back  of 
McClellan,  leaning  upon  his  chair.  Keyes,  Franklin,  and 
Sumner,  were  listening  attentively.  Some  sentries  paced 
.  to  and  fro,  to  keep  out  vulgar  curiosity.  Suddenly,  there 
was  a  nodding  of  heads,  as  of  some  policy  decided  ;  they 
threw  themselves  upon  their  steeds,  and  galloped  off  toward 
Michie's. 

As  I  reined  at  Michie's  porch,  at  ten  o'clock,  the  bridges 
behind  me  were  blown  up,  with  a  flare  that  seemed  a  blaz- 
ing of  the  Northern  Lights.  The  family  were  sitting  upon 
the  porch,  and  Mrs.  Michie  was  greatly  alarmed  with  the 
idea  that  a  battle  would  be  fought  round  her  house  next 
day. 

O'Ganlon,  of  Meagher's  staff,  had  taken  the  fever,  and 
sent  anxiously  for  me,  to  compare  our  symptoms. 


1G8  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

I  bade  the  good  people  adieu  before  I  went  to  bed,  and 
gave  the  man  "  Pat "  a  dollar  to  stand  by  my  horse  while  I 
slept,  and  to  awake  me  at  any  disturbance,  that  I  might  be 
ready  to  scamper.  The  man  "  Pat,"  I  am  bound  to  say, 
woke  me  up  thrice  by  the  exclamation  of — 

"  Sure,  yer  honor,  there's  —  well  —  to  pay  in  the  yard  ! 
I  think  ye  and  the  Doctor  had  better  ride  off." 

On  each  of  those  occasions,  I  found  that  the  man  Pat  had 
been  lonesome,  and  wanted  somebody  to  speak  to. 

What  a  sleep  was  mine  that  night !  I  forgot  my  fever. 
But  another  and  a  hotter  fever  burned  my  temples,  —  the 
fearful  excitement  of  the  time  !  Whither  were  we  to  go, 
cut  off  from  the  York,  beaten  before  Richmond, — perhaps 
even  now  surrounded,  —  and  to  be  butchered  to-morrow,  till 
the  clouds  should  rain  blood  ?  Were  we  to  retreat  one 
hundred  miles  down  the  hostile  Peninsula,  —  a  battle  at 
every  rod,  a  grave  at  every  footstep  ?  Then  I  remembered 
the  wounded  heaped  at  Gaines's  Mill,  and  how  they  were 
groaning  without  remedy,  ebbing  at  every  pulse,  counting 
the  flashing  drops,  calling  for  water,  for  mercy,  for  death. 
So  I  found  heart ;  for  I  was  not  buried  yet.  And  somehow 
I  felt  that  fate  was  to  take  me,  as  the  great  poet  took 
Dante,  through  other  and  greater  horrors. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

M'CLELLAN'S  RETREAT. 

THE  scene  presented  in  Michie's  lawn  and  oak  grove,  on 
Saturday  morning,  was  terribly  picturesque,  and  character- 
istic of  the  calamity  of  war.  The  well  was  beset  by  crowds 
of  wounded  men,  perishing  of  thirst,  who  made  frantic 
efforts  to  reach  the  bucket,  but  were  borne  back  by  the 
stronger  desperadoes.  The  kitchen  was  swarming  with 
hungry  soldiers  who  begged  corn-bread  and  half-cooked 
dough  from  the  negroes.  The  shady  side-yard  was  dotted 
with  pale,  bruised,  and  bleeding  people,  who  slept  out 
their  weariness  upon  the  damp  grass,  forgetful,  for  the  mo- 
ment, of  their  sores.  Ambulances  poured  through  the 
lane,  in  solemn  procession,  and  naw  and  then,  couples  of 
privates  bore  by  some  wounded  officer,  upon  a  canvas 
"stretcher."  The  lane  proving  too  narrow,  at  length,  for 
the  passing  vehicles,  the  gate-posts  and  fence  were  torn 
up,  and  finally,  the  soldiers  made  a  footway  of  the  hall  of 
the  dwelling. 

The  retreat  had  been  in  progress  all  night,  as  I  had  heard 
the  wagons  through  my  open  windows.  By  daylight  the 
whole  army  was  acquainted  with  the  facts,  that  we  were  to 
resign  our  depot  at  White  House,  relinquish  the  North 
bank  of  the  river,  and  retire  precipitately  to  the  shores  of 
the  James.  A  rumor  —  indignantly  denied,  but  as  often 
repeated  —  prevailed  among  the  teamsters,  surgeons,  and 
drivers,  that  the  wounded  were  to  be  left  in  the  enemy's 
15  (1G9) 


170  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   KOX-COSIBATANT. 

hands.  It  shortly  transpired  that  we  were  already  cut  off 
from  the  Pamunkey.  A  train  had  departed  for  White 
House  at  dawn,  and  had  delivered  its  cargo  of  mortality 
safely ;  but  a  second  train,  attempting  the  passage,  at 
seven  o'clock  had  been  fired  into,  and  compelled  to  return. 
A  tremendous  explosion,  and  a  shaft  of  white  smoke  that 
flashed  to  the  zenith,  informed  us,  soon  afterward,  that  the 
railroad  bridge  had  been  blown  up. 

About  the  same  time,  the  roar  of  artillery  recommenced 
in  front,  and  regiments  that  had  not  slept  for  twenty  hours, 
were  hurried  past  us,  to  take  position  at  the  entrenchments. 
A  universal  fear  now  found  expression,  and  helpless  people 
asked  of  each  other,  with  pale  lips  — 

"  How  far  have  we  to  walk  to  reach  the  James  ?  " 
It  was  doubtful,  at  this  time,  that  any  one  knew  the  route 
to  that  river.  A  few  members  of  the  signal  corps  had  ad- 
ventured thither  to  open  communication  with  the  gunboats, 
and  a  s*mall  cavalry  party  of  Casey's  division  had  made  a 
foray  to  New  Market  and  Charles  City  Court  House.  But 
it  was  rumored  that  Wise's  brigade  of  Confederates  was 
now  posted  at  Malvern  Hills,  closing  up  the  avenue  of 
escape,  and  that  the  whole  right  wing  of  the  Confederate 
army  was  pushing  toward  Charles  City.  Malvern  Hills, 
the  nearest  point  that  could  be  gained,  was  about  twenty 
miles  distant,  and  Harrison's  Landing  —  presumed  to  bo 
our  final  destination  —  was  thirty  miles  away.  To  retreat 
over  this  distance,  encumbered  with  baggage,  the  wounded 
and  the  sick,  was  discarded  as  involving  pursuit,  and  cer- 
tain calamity.  Cavalry  might  fall  upon  us  at  every  turn- 
ing, since  the  greater  portion  of  our  own  horse  had  been 
scouting  between  White  House  and  Hanover,  when  the 
bridges  were  destroyed,  and  was  therefore  separated  from 
the  main  army.  At  eight  o'clock  —  weak  with  fever  and 
scarcely  able  to  keep  in  the  saddle  —  I  joined  Mr.  Ander- 
son of  the  Herald,  and  rode  toward  the  front,  that  I  might 
discover  the  whereabouts  of  the  new  engagement.  Wind- 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A  NOX-COMBATANT.  171 

ing  through  a  cart-track  in  Michie's  Woods,  we  came  upon 
fully  one  third  of  the  whole  army,  or  the  remnant  of  all  that 
portion  engaged  at  Gaines's  Mill ;  —  the  Reserves,  Porter's 
Corps,  Slocum's  division,  and  Meagher's  brigade,  —  per- 
haps thirty-thousand  men.  They  covered  the  whole  of 
Tent's  farm,  and  were  drawn  up  in  line,  heavily  equipped, 
with  their  colors  in  position,  field  officers  dismounted,  and 
detachments  from  each  regiment  preparing  hot  coffee  at 
certain  fires.  A  very  few  wagons  —  and  these  contain- 
ing only  ammunition  —  stood  harnessed  beside  each  regi- 
ment. In  many  cases  the  men  lay  or  knelt  upon  the 
ground.  Such  hot,  hungry,  weary  wretches,  I  never 
beheld.  During  the  whole  night  long  they  had  been  cross- 
ing" the  Chickahominy,  antithe  little  sleep  vouchsafed 
them  had  been  taken  in  snatched  upon  the  bare  clay.  Trav- 
elling from  place  to  place,  I  saw  the  surviving  heroes  of  the 
defeat :  Meagher  looking  very  yellow  and  prosaic  ;  Slo- 
cum,  —  small,  indomitable,  active  ;  Newton,  —  a  little  gray, 
a  trifle  proud,  very  mercurial,  and  curiously  enough,  a 
Virginian  ;  Mcade,  — lithe,  spectacled,  sanguine  ;  and  final- 
ly General  McCall,  as  grave,  kindly  odd  and  absent,  as  I 
had  found  him  four  months  before.  The  latter  worthy  was 
one  of  the  first  of  the  Federal  Generals  to  visit  Richmond. 
He  was  taken  prisoner  the  second  day  afterward,  and  the 
half  of  his  command  was  slain  or  disabled. 

I  went  to  and  fro,  obtaining  the  names  of  killed,  wound- 
ed and  missing,  with  incidents  of  the  battle  as  well  as  its 
general  plan.  These  I  scrawled  upon  bits  of  newspaper, 
upon  envelopes,  upon  the  lining  of  my  hat,  and  finally  upon 
my  shirt  wristbands.  I  was  literally  filled  with  notes  before 
noon,  and  if  I  had  been  shot  at  that  time,  endeavors  to  ob- 
tain my  name  would  have  been  extremely  difficult.  I 
should  have  had  more  titles  than  some  of  the  Chinese  prin- 
ces ;  some  parts  of  me  would  have  been  found  fatally 
wounded,  and  others  italicized  for  gallant  behavior.  In- 
deed, I  should  have  b'een  shot  in  every  part,  taken  prisoner 


172  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

at  every  place,  killed  outright  in  every  skirmish,  and 
marvellously  saved  through  every  peril.  My  tombstone 
would  have  been  some  hundreds  of  muster-rolls  and  my 
obituary  a  fortune  to  a  newspaper.  I  recollect,  with  some 
amusement,  the  credit  that  each  regiment  took  upon  itself 
for  distinguished  behavior.  There  were  few  Colonels  that 
did  not  claim  all  the  honors.  I  fell  in  with  a  New  Jersey 
brigade,  that  had  been  decimated  of  nearly  half  its  quota, 
and  a  spruce  young  Major  attempted  to  convey  an  idea  of 
the  battle  to  me.  He  said,  in  brief,  that  the  New  Jersey 
brigade,  composed  mainly  of  himself  and  his  regiment,  and 
some  few  organizations  of  little  consequence,  —  although 
numbering  ten  thousand  odd  soldiers,  —  had  received  the 
whole  shock  of  a  quantity  of  "  Rebels."  The  said  "  Rebels  " 
appeared  to  make  up  one  fourth  part  of  the  population  of 
the  globe.  There  was  no  end  to  them.  They  seemed  to 
be  several  miles  deep,  longer  and  more  crooked  than  the 
Pamunkey,  and  stood  with  their  rear  against  Richmond,  so 
that  they  couldn't  fall  back,  even  if  they  wanted  to.  In 
vain  did  the  New  Jersey  brigade  and  his  regiment  attack 
them  with  ball  and  bayonet.  How  the  "Rebels"  ever 
withstood  the  celebrated  charge  of  his  regiment  was  alto- 
gether inexplicable. 

In  the  language  of  the  Major, —  "  the  New  Jersey  brig- 
ade, —  and  my  regiment,  —  fit,  and  fit,  and  fit,  and  give 
'em  '  get  out ! '  But  sir,  may  I  be ,  well  there  (ex- 
pression inadequate),  we  couldn't  budge  'em.  No,  sir! 
(very  violently,)  not  budge  'em,  sir!  /  told  the  boys  to 
walk  at  'em  with  cold  steel.  Says  I :  '  Boys,  steel'ill  fetch 
;em,  or  nothin'  under  heaven  ! '  Well,  sir,  at  'em  we  went, 
—  me  and  the  boys.  There  ain't  been  no  sich  charge  in 
the  whole  war !  Not  in  the  whole  war,  sir  I  (intensely  fer- 
vid ; )  leave  it  to  any  impartial  observer  if  there  has  been  ! 
We  went  up  the  hill,  square  in  the  face  of  all  their  artillery, 
musketry,  cavalry,  sharpshooters,  riflemen,  —  everything, 
sir  I  Everything!  (energetically.)  One  o'  my  men  over- 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  173 

heard  the  Rebel  General  say,  as  we  carnc  up  :  says  he,  — 
'  that's  the  gamest  thing  I  ever  see.'  Well !  we  butchered 
'em  frightful.  We  must  a  killed  a  thousand  or  two  of  'em, 
don't  you  think  so,  Adjutant?  But,  sir, — it  was  all  in 
vain.  No  go,  sir!  no,  sir,  no  go  !  (impressively.)  And  the 
New  Jersey  brigade  and  my  regiment  fell  back,  inch  by 
inch,  with  our  feet  to  the  foe  (rhetorically.)  Is  that  so, 
boys  ? " 

The  "  boys,"  who  had  meantime  gathered  around,  ex- 
claimed loudly,  that  it  was  "  true  as  preachin,"  and  the  Ma- 
jor added,  in  an  undertone  that  his  name  was  spelled  *  *  *. 

"But  where  were  Porter's  columns  ?"  said  I,  "  and  the 
Pennsylvania  Reserves  ?  " 

"I  didn't  see  'em,"  said  the  Major:  "I  don't  think 
they  was  there.  If  they  had  a  been,  why  wa'n't  they  on 
hand  to  save  my  regiment,  and  the  New  Jersey  brigade  ?  " 

It  would  be  wrong  to  infer  from  these  vauntings,  that 
the  Federals  did  not  fight  bravely  and  endure  defeat  un- 
shrinkingly. On  the  contrary,  I  have  never,  read  of  higher 
exemplifications  of  personal  and  moral  courage,  than  I  wit- 
nessed during  this  memorable  retreat.  And  the  young 
Major's  boasting  did  not  a  whit  reduce  my  estimate  of  his 
efficiency.  For  in  America,  staggering  does  not  necessarily 
indicate  cowardice.  I  knew  a  Captain  of  artillery  in  Smith's 
division,  who  was  wordier  than  Gratiano,  and  who  exag- 
gerated like  Falstaff.  But  he  was  a  lion  in  action,  and  at 
Lee's  Mills  and  Williarnsburg  his  battery  was  handled  with 
consummate  skill. 

From  Trent's  farm  the  roadway  led  by  a  strip  of  corduroy, 
through  sloppy,  swampy  woods,  to  an  open  place,  beyond 
a  brook,  where  Smith's  division  lay.  The  firing  had  almost 
entirely  ceased,  and  we  heard  loud  cheers  running  up  and 
down  the  lines,  as  we  again  ventured  within  cannon  range. 
On  this  spot,  for  the  second  time,  the  Federals  had  won  a 
decided  success.  And  in  so  far  as  a  cosmopolitan  could 
feel  elated,  I  was  proud,  for  a  moment,  of  the  valor  of  my 
15* 


174  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

division.  The  victors  had  given  me  meals  and  a  bed,  and 
they  had  fed  my  pony  when  both  of  us  were  hungry.  But 
the  sight  of  the  prisoners  and  the  collected  dead,,  saddened 
me  somewhat. 

These  two  engagements  have  received  the  name  of  the 
First  and  Second  battles  of  Golding's  Farm.  They  re- 
sulted from  an  effort  of  Toombs's  Georgia  brigade  to  carry 
the  redoubt  and  breastworks  of  General  Smith.  Toombs 
was  a  civilian,  and  formerly  a  senator  from  Georgia.  He 
had  no  military  ability,  and  his  troops  were  driven  back 
with  great  slaughter,  both  on  Friday  and  Saturday. 
Among  the  prisoners  taken  was  Colonel  Lamar  of  (I  think) 
the  7th  Georgia  regiment.  He  passed  me,  in  a  litter, 
wounded,  as  I  rode  toward  the  redoubt. 

Lamar  was  a  beautiful  man,  shaped  like  a  woman,  and 
his  hair  was  long,  glossy,  and  wavy  with  ringlets.  He  was 
a  tiger,  in  his  love  of  blood,  and  in  character  self-willed 
and  vehement.  He  was  of  that  remarkable  class  of  South- 
ern men,  of  which  the  noted  "Filibuster"  Walker  was  the 
great  exponent.  I  think  I  may  call  him  an  apostle  of 
slavery.  He  believed  it  to  be  the  destiny  of  our  pale  race 
to  subdue  all  the  dusky  tribes  of  the  earth,  and  to  evangel- 
ize, with  the  sword,  the  whole  Western  continent,  to  the 
uses  of  master  and  man.  Such  people  were  called  disciples 
of"  manifest  destiny."  He  threw  his  whole  heart  into  the 
war ;  but  when  I  saw  him,  bloodless,  panting,  quivering, 
I  thought  how  little  the  wrath  of  man  availed  against  the 
justice  of  God.  From  Smith's  on  the  right,  I  kept  along  a 
military  road,  in  the  woods,  to  Sedgwick's  and  Richard- 
son's divisions,  at  Fairoaks.  Richardson  was  subsequently 
slain,  at  the  second  battle  of  Bull  Run.  He  was  called 
"  Fighting  Dick,"  and  on  this  particular  morning  was  talk- 
ing composedly  to  his  wife,  as  she  was  about  to  climb  to 
the  saddle.  His  tent  had  been  taken  down,  and  soldiers 
were  placing  his  furniture  in  a  wagon.  A  greater  contrast 
I  never  remarked,  than  the  ungainly,  awkward,  and  rough 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  175 

General,  with  his  slight,  trim,  pretty  companion.  She  had 
come  to  visit  him  and  had  remained  until  commanded  to 
retire.  I  fancied,  though  I  was  separated  some  distance, 
that  the  little  woman  wept,  as  she  kissed  him  good  by, 
and  he  followed  her,  with  frequent  gestures  of  good-hap, 
till  she  disappeared  behind  the  woods.  I  do  not  know  that 
such  prosaic  old  soldiers  are  influenced  by  the  blandishments 
of  love  ;  but  "  Fighting  Dick  "  never  wooed  death  so  reck- 
lessly as  in  the  succeeding  engagements  of  New  Market  and 
Malvern  Hills.  ^ 

From  Seven  Pines  to  the  right  of  Eichardson's  head-quar- 
ters, ran  a  line  of  alternate  breastwork,  redoubt,  and  stock- 
ade. The  best  of  these  redoubts  was  held  by  Captain 
Petit,  with  a  New  York  Volunteer  battery.  I  had  often 
talked  with  Petit,  for  he  embodied,  as  well  as  any  man  in 
the  army,  the  martial  qualifications  of  a  volunteer.  He 
despised  order.  Nobody  cared  less  for  dress  and  dirt.  I 
have  seen  him,  sitting  in  a  hole  that  he  hollowed  with  his 
hands,  tossing  pebbles  and  dust  over  his  head,  like  another 
Job.  He  had  profound  contempt  for  any  man  and  any 
system  that  was  not  "  American."  I  remember  asking 
him,  one  day,  the  meaning  of  the  gold  lace  upon  the  staff 
hats  of  the  Irish  brigade. 

"  Means  run  like  shell ! ;'  said  Petit,  covering  me  with 
dirt. 

"  Don't  the  Irish  make  the  best  soldiers  ?  "  I  ventured. 

"  No  !  "  said  Petit,  raining  pebbles,  "  I  had  rather  have 
one  American  than  ten  Irishmen." 

The  fighting  of  Petit  was  contrary  to  all  rule  ;  but  I  think 
that  he  was  a  splendid  artillery-man.  He  generally  mounted 
the  rampart,  shook  his  fist  at  the  enemy,  flung  up  his  hat, 
jumped  down,  sighted  the  guns  himself,  threw  shells  with 
wonderful  accuracy,  screamed  at  the  gunners,  mounted  the 
rampart  again,  halloed,  and,  in  short,  managed  to  do  more 
execution,  make  more  noise,  attract  more  attention  and 
throw  more  dirt  than  anybody  in  the  army.  His  redoubt 


176  CAMPAIGNS   OF  A  NON-COMBATANT. 

was  small,  but  beautifully  constructed,  and  the  parapet  was 
heaped  with  double  rows  of  sandbags.  It  mounted  rifled 
field-pieces,  and,  at  most  times,  the  gunners  were  lying 
under  the  pieces,  asleep.  Not  any  of  the  entrenched  posts 
among  the  frontier  Indians  were  more  enveloped  in  wilder- 
ness than  this.  The  trees  had  been  felled  in  front  to  give 
the  cannon  play,  but  behind  and  on  each  side  belts  of  dense, 
dwarf  timber  covered  the  boggy  soil.  To  the  left  of  Petit, 
on  the  old  field  of  Seven  Pines,  lay  the  divisions  of  Hooker 
and  Kearney,  and  thither  I  journeyed,  after  leaving  the  re- 
doubtable volunteer.  Hooker  was  a  New  Englander,  re- 
puted to  be  the  handsomest  man  in  the  army.  He  fought 
bravely  in  the  Mexican  war,  and  afterwards  retired  to 
San  Francisco,  where  he  passed  a  Bohemian  existence 
at  the  Union  Club  House.  He  disliked  McClellan,  was 
beloved  by  his  men,  and  was  generally  known  as  "  Old 
Joe."  He  has  been  one  of  the  most  successful  Federal 
leaders,  and  seems  to  hold  a  charmed  life.  In  all  probability 
he  will  become  Commander-in-chief  of  one  of  the  grand  armies. 
Kearney  has  passed  away  since  the  date  of  which  I  speak. 
He  was  known  as  the  "one-armed  Devil,"  and  was,  by 
odds,  the  best  educated  of  all  the  Federal  military  chiefs. 
But,  singularly  enough,  he  departed  from  all  tactics,  when 
hotly  afield.  His  personal  energy  and  courage  have  given 
him  renown,  and  he  loved  to  lead  forlorn  hopes,  or  head 
storming-parties,  or  ride  upon  desperate  adventures.  He 
was  rich  from  childhood,  and  spent  much  of  his  life  in 
Europe.  For  a  part  of  this  time  he  served  as  a  cavalry-man 
with  the  French,  in  Algiers.  In  private  life  he  was  equal!}' 
reckless,  but  his  tastes  were  scholarly,  and  he  was  generous 
to  a  fault.  Both  Kearney  and  Hooker  were  kind  to  the 
reporters,  and  I  owe  the  dead  man  many  a  favor.  General 
Daniel  Sickles  commanded  a  brigade  in  this  corps.  To  the 
left,  and  in  the  rear  of  Heintzelman's  corps,  lay  the  divisions 
of  Casey  and  Couch,  that  had  relapsed  into  silence  since 
their  disgrace  at  Seven  Pines.  General  Casey  was  a  thin- 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A  NON-COMBATANT.  177 

haired  old  gentleman,  too  gracious  to  be  a  soldier,  although 
I  believe  that  he  is  still  in  the  service.  His  division  com- 
prised the  extreme  left  of  the  Grand  Army,  and  bordered 
upon  a  deep,  impenetrable  bog  called  "  White  Oak  Swamp." 
It  was  the  purpose  of  McClellan  to  place  this  swamp 
between  him  and  the  enemy,  and  defend  its  passage  till  his 
baggage  and  siege  artillery  had  obtained  the  shelter  of  the 
gunboats,  on  the  shores  of  the  James.  I  rode  along  this 
whole  line,  to  renew  my  impressions  of  the  position,  and 
found  that  sharp  skirmishing  was  going  on  at  every  point. 
When  I  returned  to  Savage's,  where  McClellan's  head1 
quarters  had  temporarily  been  pitched,  I  found  the  last  of 
the*,  wagons  creaking  across  the  track,  and  iliing  slowly 
southward.  The  wounded  lay  in  the  out-houses,  in  the  trains 
of  cars,  beside  the  hedge,  and  in  shade  of  the  trees  about  the 
dwelling.  A  little  back,  beside  a  wood,  lay  Lowe's  balloon 
traps,  and  the  infantry  "  guard,"  and  cavalry  "  escort  "  of 
the  Commander-in-chief  were  encamped  close  to  the  new 
provost  quarters,  in  a  field  beyond  the  orchard.  An  ambu- 
lance passed  me,  as  I  rode  into  the  lane  ;  it  was  filled  with 
sufferers,  and  two  men  with  bloody  feet,  crouched  in  the 
trail.  From  the  roof  of  Savage's  house  floated  the  red  hos- 
pital flag.  Savage  himself  was  a  quiet  Virginia  farmer,  and 
a  magistrate.  His  name  is  now  coupled  with  a  grand 
battle. 

I  felt  very  hungry,  at  four  o'clock,  but  my  weak  stomach 
revolted  at  coarse  soldier  fare,  and  I  determined  to  ride 
back  to  Michie's.  I  was  counselled  to  beware  ;  but  having 
learned  little  discretion  afield,  I  cantered  off,  through  a 
trampled  tillage  of  wheat,  and  an  interminable  woods.  In 
a  half  hour  I  rode  into  the  familiar  yard ;  but  the  place  was 
so  ruined  that  I  hardly  recognized  it.  Not  a  panel  of  fence 
remained  :  the  lawn  was  a  great  pool  of  slime  ;  the  windlass 
had  been  wrenched  from  the  well ;  a  few  gashed  and  expir- 
ing soldiers  lay  motionless  beneath  the  oaks,  the  fields  were 
littered  with  the  remains  of  camps,  and  the  old  dwelling 


178  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NOX-COMBATANT. 

stood  like  a  haunted  thing  upon  a  blighted  plain.  The 
idlers,  the  teamsters,  and  the  tents  were  gone,  —  all  was 
silence,  —  and  in  the  little  front  porch  sat  Mrs.  Michie, 
weeping  ;  the  old  gentleman  stared  at  the  desolation  with  a 
working  face,  and  two  small  yellow  lads  lay  dolorously  tipon 
the  steps.  They  all  seemed  to  brighten  up  as  I  appeared 
at  the  gate,  and  when  I  staggered  from  my  horse,  both  of 
them  took  my  hands.  I  think  that  tears  came  into  all  our 
eyes  at  once,  and  the  little  Ethiops  fairly  bellowed. 

"My  friends,"  I  said,  falteringly,  "  I  see  how  you  have 
suffered,  and  sympathize  with  you,  from  my  heart." 

"Our  beautiful  property  is  ruined,"  said  Mrs.  Michie, 
welling  up. 

"Yer'sfive  years  of  labor,  —  my  children's  heritage, — 
the  home  of  our  old  age,  — look  at  it !  " 

The  old  gentleman  stood  up  gravely,  and  cast  his  eyes 
mournfully  around. 

"  I  have  nobody  to  accuse,"  he  said  ;  "  my  grief  is  too 
deep  for  any  hate.  This  is  war  !  " 

"  What  will  the  girls  say  when  they  come  back  ?  "  wag 
the  mother's  next  sob;  "they  loved  the  place:  do  you 
think  they  will  know  it  ?  " 

I  did  not  know  how  to  reply.  They  retained  my  hands, 
and  for  a  moment  none  of  us  spoke. 

"  Don't  think,  Mr.  Townsend,"  said  the  chivalrous  old 
gentleman  again,  "that  we  like  you  less  because  some  of 
your  country  people  have  stripped  us.  Mother,  where  is 
the  gruel  you  made  for  him  ?  " 

The  good  lady,  expecting  my  return,  had  prepared  some 
nourishing  chicken  soup,  and  directly  she  produced  it.  I 
think  she  took  heart  when  I  ate  so  plentifully,  and  we  all 
spoke  hopefully  again.  Their  kindness  so  touched  me,  that 
as  the  evening  came  quietly  about  us,  lengthening  the 
shadows,  and  I  knew  that  I  must  depart,  I  took  both  their 
hands  again,  doubtful  what  to  say. 

"My  friends,  —  may  I  say,  almost  my  parents?  for  you 


CAMPAIGNS   OF  A   NON-COMBATANT.  179 

have  been  as  kind, — good  by !  In  a  day,  perhaps,  you 
will  be  with  your  children  again.  Richmond  will  be  open 
to  yon.  You  may  freely  go  and  come.  Be  comforted  by 
these  assurances.  And  when  the  war  is  over,  —  God  speed 
the  time !  —  we  may  see  each  other  under  happier  aus- 
pices." 

"Good  by!"  said  Mr.  Michie ;  "if  I  have  a  house  at 
that  time,  you  shall  be  welcome." 

"  Good  by,"  said  Mrs.  Michie  ;  "  tell  your  mother  that  a 
strange  lady  in  Virginia  took  good  'care  of  you  when  you 
were  sick." 

I  waved  a  final  adieu,  vaulted  down  the  lane,  and  the 
wood  gathered  its  solemn  darkness  about  me.  When  I 
emerged  upon  Savage's  fields,  a  succession  of  terrible 
explosions  shook  the  night,  and  then  the  flames  flared  up, 
at  points  along  the  railroad.  They  were  blowing  up  the 
locomotives  and  burning  the  cars.  At  the  same  hour, 
though  I  could  not  see  it,  White  House  was  wrapped  in 
fire,  and  the  last  sutler,  teamster,  and  cavalry-man  had  dis- 
appeared from  the  shores  of  the  Pamunkey. 

I  tossed  through  another  night  of  fever,  in  the  captain's 
tent  of  the  Sturgis  Rifles,  —  McClellan's  body  guard.     And 
somehow,  again,  I  dreamed  fitfully  of  the  unburied  corpses 
on  the  field  of  Gaines's  Mill. 
* 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

A   BATTLE    SUNDAY. 

IN  the  dim  of  the  morning  of  our  Lord's  Sabbath,  the 
twenty-ninth  of  June,  1862,  I  sat  in  my  saddle  at  Savage's. 
The  gloom  was  very  cheerless.  A  feeling  of  hopeless  vag- 
abondism oppressed  me.  I  remembered  the  Disinherited 
Knight,  the  Wandering  Jew,  Robinson  Crusoe,  and  other 
poor  errants  in  the  wide  world,  and  wondered  if  any  of 
them  ever  looked  so  ruefully  as  I,  when  the  last  wagon  of 
the  Grand  Army  disappeared  through  the  shadow. 

The  tent  had  been  taken  down  at  midnight.  I  had  been 
dozing  in  the  saddle,  with  parched  lips  and  throbbing  tem- 
ples, waiting  for  my  comrade.  Head-qiiarters  had  been 
intending  to  move,  without  doing  it,  for  four  hours,  and  he 
informed  me  that  it  was  well  to  stay  with  the  Commanding 
General,  as  the  Commanding  General  kept  out  of  danger, 
and  also  kept  in  provisions.  I  was  sick  and  petulant,  and 
finally  quarrelled  with  my  friend.  He  told  me,  quietly,  that 
I  would  regret  my  harshness  when  I  should  be  well  again. 
I  set  off  for  White  Oak,  but  repented  at  "  Burnt  Chim- 
neys," and  turned  back.  In  the  misty  dawn  I  saw  the 
maimed  still  lying  on  the  ground,  wrapped  in  relics  of  blank- 
ets, and  in  one  of  the  outhouses  a  grim  emba'lmer  stood 
amid  a  family  of  nude  corpses.  He  dealt  with  the  bodies 
of  high  officers  only ;  for,  said  he  — 

"  I  used  to  be  glad  to  prepare  private  soldiers.  They 
were  wuth  a  five  dollar  bill  apiece.  But,  Lord  bless  you,  a 

(180) 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  181 

Colonel  pays  a  hundred,  and  a  Brigadier-General  two  hun- 
dred. There's  lots  of  them  now,  and  I  have  cut  the 
acquaintance  of  everything  below  a  Major.  I  might,"  he 
added,  "  as  a  great  favor,  do  a  Captain,  but  he  must  pay  a 
Major's  price.,  I  insist  upon  that !  Such  windfalls  don't 
come  every  day.  There  won't  be  another  such  killing  for 
a  century." 

A  few  horsemen  of  the  escort  loitered  around  head-quar- 
ters. All  the  tents  but  one  had  been  removed,  and  the 
staff  crouched  sleepily  upon  the  refuse  straw.  The  rain 
began  to  drizzle  at  this  time,  and  I  unbuckled  a  blanket  to 
wrap  about  my  shoulders.  Several  people  were  lying  upon 
dry  places,  here  and  there,  and  espying  some  planks  a  little 
remote,  I  tied  my  horse  to  a  peach-tree,  and  stretched 
myself  languidly  upon  my  back.  The  bridal  couch  or  the 
throne  were  never  so  soft  as  4;hose  knotty  planks,  and  the 
drops  that  fell  upon  my  forehead  seemed  to  cool  my  fever. 

I  had  passed  into  a  sort  of  cognizant  sleep  when  a  harsh, 
loud,  cruel  voice  awakened  me,  and  I  seemed  to  see  a  great 
Polyphemus,  stretching  his  hands  into  the  clouds,  and 
gaping  like  an  earthquake. 

"Boy,"  I  heard  him  say,  to  a  slight  figure,  near  at  hand, 

"  boy,  what  are  you  standing  there  for?  What  in 

do  you  want  ?  " 

"Nothing  I  " 

"  Take  it,  and  go, you  !     Take  it,  and  go  !  " 

I  peeped  timorously  from  my  place,  and  recognized  tne 
Provost-General  of  the  Grand  Army.  He  had  been  sleeping 
upon  a  camp  chest,  and  did  not  appear  to  be  refreshed 
thereby. 

"  I  feel  sulky  as !  "  he  said  to  an  officer  adjoining  ; 

"  I  feel bad-humored  !  Orderly  !  " 

"  General ! " 

"  Whose  horses  are  these  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  General !  " 

"  Cut  every one  of  'em  loose.  Wake  up  these 

1C 


182  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT. 


loafers   with  the  point  of   your   sabre  I     Every 

oiie   of   'em !      That's  what    I    call 


boldness  !  " 

He  strutted  off  like  the  great  Bomba  or  the  Czar,  and  I 
thought  I  never  beheld  a  more  exceptional  person  in  any 
high  position. 

With  a  last  look  at  Savage's  white  house,  the  abandoned 
wretches  in  the  lawn,  the  blood-red  hospital  flag,  the  torn 
track  and  smouldering  cars,  I  turned  my  face  southward, 
crossed  some  bare  plains,  that  had  once  been  fields,  and  at 
eight  o'clock  passed  down  the  Williamsburg  road,  toward 
Bottom  Bridge.  The  original  roadway  was  now  a  bottomless 
stretch  of  sand,  full  of  stranded  wheels,  dead  horses,  shreds 
of  blankets,  discarded  haversacks,  and  mounds  of  spilled 
crackers.  Other  routes  for  wagons  had  been  opened  across 
fields,  over  bluffs,  around  pits  and  bogs,  and  through  thick- 
ets and  woods.  The  whole  country  was  crossed  with 
deeply-rutted  roads,  as  if  some  immense  city  had  been  lifted 
away,  and  only  its  interminably  sinuous  streets  remained. 
Near  Burnt  Chimneys,  a  creek  crossing  the  road  made  a  ravine, 
and  here  I  overtook  the  hindmost  of  the  wagons.  They  had 
been  stalled  in  the  gorge,  and  a  provost  guard  was  hurrying 
the  laggard  teamsters.  The  creek  was  muddy  beyond 
comparison,  and  at  the  next  hill-top  I  passed  "  Burnt  Chim- 
neys," a  few  dumb  witnesses  that  pointed  to  heaven.  A 
mile  or  two  further,  I  came  to  some  of  the  retreating  regi- 
ments, and  also  to  five  of  the  siege  thirty-twos  with  which 
Richmond  was  to  have  been  bombarded.  '  The  main  army 
still  lay  back  at  their  entrenchments  to  cover  the  retreat, 
and  at  ten  o'clock  I  heard  the  roar  of  field  guns  ;  the  pur- 
suit had  commenced,  and  the  Confederates  were  pouring 
over  the  ramparts  at  Fairoaks.  I  did  not  go  back  ;  battles 
were  of  no  consequence  to  me.  I  wanted  some  breakfast. 
If  I  could  only  obtain  a  cup  of  warm  coffee  and  a  fragment 
of  meat,  I  thought  that  I  might  recover  strength.  But 
nothing  could  be  obtained  anywhere,  for  money  or  charity. 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-CO31BATANT.  183 

The  soldiers  that  I  passed  looked  worn  and  hungry,  for 
their  predecessors  had  swept  the  country  like  herds  of 
locusts ;  but  one  cheerful  fellow,  whom  I  addressed,  pro- 
duced a  lump  of  fat  pork  that  I  tried  to  eat,  but  made  a 
sig'nal  failure.  All  my  baggage  had  been  left  at  Michie's, 
where  it  remains  to  this  moment.  None  cared  to  be  hos- 
pitable to  correspondents  at  this  despondent  hour,  and  a 
horrible  idea  of  starvation  took  possession  of  my  mind.  A 
mile  from  White  Oak  Swamp,  some  distance  back  of  the 
road,  lay  the  Engineer  Brigade.  They  were  now  on  the 
eve  of  breaking  camp,  and  when  I  reached  Colonel  McCloud 
Murphy's,  his  chests  were  packed,  and  all  his  provisions 
had  gone  ahead.  He  gave  me,  however,  a  couple  of  hard 
crackers  and  a  draught  of  whiskey  and  quinine,  whereby  I 
rallied  for  a  moment.  At  General  Woodbury's  I  observed 
a  middle-aged  lady,  making  her  toilet  by  a  looking-glass 
hung  against  the  tent-pole.  She  seemed  as  careful  of  her 
personal  appearance,  in  this  trying  time,  as  if  she  had  been 
at  some  luxurious  court.  There  were  several  women  on 
the  retreat,  and  though  the  guns  thundered  steadily  behind, 
they  were  never  flurried,  but  could  have  received  company, 
or  accepted  offers  of  marriage,  with  the  utmost  compla- 
cency. If  there  was  any  one  that  rouged,  I  am  sure  that 
no  personal  danger  would  have  disturbed  her  while  she 
heightened  her  roses  ;  and  she  would  have  tied  up  her  back 
hair  in  defiance  of  shell  or  grape. 

At  Casey's  ancient  head-quarters,  on  the  bluff  facing 
White  Oak  Swamp,  I  found  five  correspondents.  We  fra- 
ternized immediately,  and  they  all  pooh-poohed  the  battle, 
as  such  an  old  story  that  it  would  be  absurd  to  ride  back 
to  the  field.  We  knew,  however,  that  it  was  occurring  at 
Peach  Orchard,  on  a  part  of  the  old  ground  at  Fairoaks. 
These  gentlemen  were  in  rather  despondent  moods,  and 
there  was  one  who  opined  that  we  were  all  to  be  made 
prisoners  of  war.  In  his  own  expressive  way  of  putting  it, 
we  were  to  be  "  gobbled  up."  This  person  was  stout  and 


184  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

inclined  to  panting  and  perspiration.  He  wore  glasses  upon 
a  most  pugnacious  nose,  and  his  large,  round  head  was  cov- 
ered with  short,  bristly,  jetty  hair. 

"  I  promised  my  wife,"  said  this  person,  who  may  be 
called  Cindrey,  "  to  stay  at  home  after  the  Burnside  busi- 
ness. The  Burnside  job  was  very  nearly  enough  for  me. 
In  fact  I  should  have  quite  starved  on  the  Burnside  job,  if  I 
hadn't  took  the  fever.  And  the  fever  kept  me  so  busy  that 
I  forgot  how  hungry  I  was.  So  I  lived  over  that." 

At  this  point  he  took  off  his  glasses  and  wiped  his  face  ; 
the  water  was  running  down  his  cheeks  like  a  miniature 
cataract,  and  his  great  neck  seemed  to  emit  jets  of  perspira- 
tion. 

"  Well/'  he  continued,  "  the  Burnside  job  wasn't  enough 
for  rne  ;  I  must  come  out  again.  I  must  follow  the  young 
Napoleon.  And  the  young  Napoleon  has  made  a  pretty 
mess  of  it.  I  never  expect  to  get  home  any  more  ;  I  know 
1  shall  be  gobbled  up  I  " 

A  youngish,  oldish,  oddish  fellow,  whom  they  called 
"  Pop,"  here  told  Mr.  Cindrey  to  keep  his  pulse  up  and  take 
a  drink.  A  tall,  large  person,  in  semi-quaker  garb,  who 
did  not  look  unlike  George  Fox,  run  to  seed,  said,  with  a 
flourish,  that  these  battles  were  nothing  to  Shiloh.  He  was 
attached  to  the  provincial  press,  and  had  been  with  the 
army  of  the  West  until  recently.  Without  any  exception, 
he  was  the  "  fussiest,"  most  impertinent,  most  disagreea- 
ble man  that  I  ever  knew.  He  always  made  a  hero  of  him- 
self in  his  reports,  and  if  I  remember  rightly,  their  headings 
ran  after  this  fashion  :  — 

Tremendous  Battle  at  ROANOKE  !  The  Correspondent  of 
THE  BLUNDERBUSS  hoists  the  NATIONAL  FLAG  above  the  REBEL 
RAMPARTSII!"  or  again—  Grand  Victory  at  SHILOH! 
Mr.  Twaddle,  our  Special  Correspondent,  TAKEN  PRIS- 
ONER ! !  I  He  ESCAPES  I  !  !  He  is  FIRED  UPON  !  ! !  He  wrig- 
gles through  FOUR  SWAMPS  and  SEVEN  HOSTILE  CAMPS  ! 
He  is  AGAIN  CAPTURED  !  He  STRANGLES  the  sentry  I  He 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  185 

drinks  the  Rebel  Commander,  Philpot,  BLIND!  PJiilpot 
gives  him  THE  PASSWORD  ! !  55??*  Philpot  compliments  the 
Blunderbuss. ^0%  OUR  Correspondent  gains  the  Gunboats! 
He  is  TAKEN  ABOARD  !  Sis  welcome  !  Description  of  HIS 
BOOTS !  Itemarks,  etc.,  ETC.,  ETC  !  I  I  " 

This  man  was  anxious  to  regulate  not  only  his  own  news- 
paper, but  he  aspired  to  control  the  entire  press.  And  his 
self  adulation  was  incessant.  He  rung  all  the  changes 
upon  Shiloh.  Every  remark  suggested  some  incident  of 
Shiloh.  He  was  a  thorough  Shilohite,  and  I  regretted  in 
my  heart  that  the  "Rebels"  had  not  shut  him  away  at 
Shiloh,  that  he  might  have  enjoyed  it  to  the  end  of  his 
days. 

The  man  "  Pop  "  produced  some  apple  whiskey,  and  we 
repaired  to  a  spring,  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  where  the  man 
"  Pop  "  mixed  a  cold  punch,  and  we  drank  in  rotation.  I 
don't  think  that  Cindrey  enjoyed  his  draught,  for  it  filtered 
through  his  neck  as  if  he  had  sprung  aleak  there  ;  but  the 
man  Twaddle  might  have  taken  a  tun,  and,  as  the  man 
"Pop  "  said,  the  effect  would  have  been  that  of  "  pouring 
whiskey  through  a  knot-hole."  It  was  arranged  among 
our  own  reporters,  that  I,  being  sick,  should  be  the  first  of 
the  staff  to  go  to  New  York.  The  man  "  Pop  "  said  jo- 
cosely, that  I  might  be  allowed  to  die  in  the  bosom  of  my 
family.  The  others  gave  me  their  notes  and  lists,  but  none 
could  give  me  what  I  most  needed, — a  morsel  of  food. 
At  eleven  o'clock  our  little  party  crossed  White  Oak  Creek. 
There  was  a  corduroy  bridge  upon  which  the  teams  trav- 
elled, and  a  log  bridge  of  perilous  unsteadiness  for  foot  pas- 
sengers. But  the  soldiers  were  fording  the  stream  in  great 
numbers,  and  I  plunged  my  horse  into  the  current  so  that 
he  spattered  a  group  of  fellows,  and  one  of  them  lunged  at 
me  with  a  bayonet.  Beyond  the  creek  and  swamp,  on  the 
hillsides,  baggage  wagons  and  batteries  were  parked  in  im- 
mense numbers.  The  troops  were  taking  positions  along 
the  edge  of  the  bottom,  to  oppose  incursions  of  the  enemy, 
16* 


186  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    NON-COMBAT  AX  I. 

when  they  attempted  pursuit,  and  I  was  told  that  the  line 
extended  several  miles  westward,  to  New  Market  Cross 
Roads,  where,  it  was  thought,  the  Confederates  would 
march  out  from  Richmond  to  offer  battle.  The  roadway, 
beyond  the  swamp,  was  densely  massed  with  horse,  foot, 
cannon,  and  teams.  The  latter  still  kept  toward  the  James, 
but  the  nags  suffered  greatly  from  lack  of  corn.  Only  in- 
dispensable material  had  been  hauled  from  the  Chickahom- 
iny,  and  the  soldiers  who  fought  the  ensuing  protracted 
battles  were  exhausted  from  hunger.  Everything  had  an 
uncomfortable,  transient,  expectant  appearance,  and  the 
feeble  people  that  limped  toward  the  ultima  thule  looked 
fagged  and  wretched. 

There  were  some  with  balls  in  the  groin,  thigh,  leg,  or 
ankle,  that  made  the  whole  journey,  dropping  blood  at 
every  step.  They  were  afraid  to  lie  down,  as  the  wounded 
limbs  might  then  grow  rigid  and  stop  their  progress.  While 
I  pitied  these  maimed  persons,  I  held  the  sick  in  greater 
sympathy.  The  troubles  of  the  one  were  local ;  the  others 
were  pained  in  every  bone.  Bullets  are  fearful  tenants,  but 
fevers  are  worse.  And  some  of  the  flushed,  staggering 
folk,  that  reeled  along  the  roadside,  were  literally  out  of 
their  minds.  They  muttered  and  talked  incoherently,  and 
shouted  ribald  songs  till  my  blood  curdled  to  see  them.  At 
the  first  house  on  the  right  of  the  road,  a  half-mile  past  the 
Creek,  I  noticed  many  idle  soldiers  climbing  the  white  pal- 
ings, to  watch  something  that  lay  in  the  yard.  A  gray- 
haired  man  was  expiring,  under  the  coolness  of  a  spreading 
tree,  and  he  was  even  now  in  the  closing  pangs.  A  com- 
rade at  his  side  bathed  his  crow  with  cool  water,  but  I  saw 
that  he  would  shortly  be  with  Lazarus  or  Dives.  His  hands 
were  stretched  stiffly  by  his  sides,  his  feet  were  rigidly  ex- 
tended, and  death  was  hardening  into  his  bleached  face. 
The  white  eyeballs  glared  sightlessly  upward :  he  was  look- 
ing into  the  other  world. 

The  heat  at  this  time  was  so  intolerable  that  our  party, 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  187 

in  lieu  of  any  other  place  of  resort,  resolved  to  go  to  the 
woods.  The  sun  set  in  heaven  like  a  fiery  furnace,  and  we 
sweat  at  every  pore.  I  was  afraid,  momentarily,  of  sun- 
stroke, and  my  horse  was  bathed  in  foam.  Some  compa- 
nies of  cavalry  were  sheltered  in  the  edges  of  the  woods, 
and,  having  secured  our  nags,  we  penetrated  the  depths, 
and  spread  out  our  blankets  that  we  might  lie  down.  But 
no  breath  of  air  stirred  the  foliage.  The  "hot  and  copper 
sky  "  found  counterpart  in  the  burning  earth,  and  innumer- 
able flies  and  insects  fastened  theif  fangs  in  our  flesh. 
Cindrey  was  upon  the  rack,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  he 
possessed  a  sort  of  capillary  perspiration,  for  the  drops 
stood  at  tips  of  each  separate  bristle.  He  appeared  to  be 
passing  from  the  solid  to  the  fluid  state,  and  I  said,  ungen- 
erously, that  the  existing  temperature  was  his  liquifying 
point. 

"  Then,"  said  the  man  "  Pop/'  with  a  youngish,  oldish 
smile,  "  we  may  as  well  liquor  up." 

"  I  don't  drink !  "  said  Twaddle,  with  a  flourish.  "  Dur- 
ing all  the  perilous  hours  of  Shiloh,  I  abstained.  But  I  am 
willing  to  admit,  in  respec|"to  heat,  that  Shiloh  is  nowhere 
at  present.  And,  therefore,  I  drink  with  a  protest." 

"  No  man  can  drink  from  my  bottle,  with  a  protest,"  said 
"Pop."  "  It  isn't  regular,  and  implies  coercion.  Now  I 
don't  coerce  anybody,  particularly  you." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Twaddle,  drinking  like  a  fish,  or,  as  "  Pop  " 
remarked,  enough  to  float  a  gunboat ;  "  oh !  we  often 
chafied  each  other  at  Shiloh." 

"  If  you  persist  in  reminding  me  of  Shiloh,"  blurted  Cin- 
drey, "  you'll  be  the  ruin  of  me,  — you  and  the  heat  and  the 
flies.  You'll  have  me  dissolving  into  a  dew." 

Here  he  wiped  his  forehead,  and  killed  a  large  blue  fly, 
that  was  probing  his  ear.  We  all  resolved  to  go  to  sleep, 
and  Twaddle  said  that  he  slept  like  a  top,  in  the  heat  of 
action,  at  Shiloh.  "Pop"  asked  him,  youngishly,  to  be 
kind  enough  to  capture  no  redoubts  while  we  slumbered, 


183  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

and  not  to  raise  the  national  flag  over  any  ramparts  for  fif- 
teen minutes.  Then  he  grinned  oldishly,  and  commenced 
to  snore,  with  his  flask  in  his  bosom.  I  am  certain  that  no- 
body ever  felt  a  tithe  of  the  pain,  hunger,  heat,  and  weari- 
ness, which  agonized  me,  when  I  awoke  from  a  half-hour's 
sweltering  nap.  My  clothing  was  soaking  with  water  ;  I 
was  almost  blind  ;  somebody  seemed  to  be  sawing  a  section 
out  of  my  head  ;  my  throat  was  hot  and  crackling  ;  my 
stomach  knew  all  the  pangs  of  emptiness ;  I  had  scarcely 
strength  to  motion  ajpay  the  pertinacious  insects.  _  A  sol- 
dier gave  me  a  trifle  of  boiling  water  from  his  canteen  ;  but 
I  gasped  for  air ;  we  were  living  in  a  vacuum.  Sahara 
could  not  have  been  so  fierce  and  burning.  Two  of  us 
started  off  to  find  a  spring.  We  made  our  way  from  shade 
to  shade,  expiring  at  every  step,  and  finally,  at  the  base  of 
the  hill,  on  the  brink  of  the  swamp,  discovered  a  rill  of 
tepid  water,  that  evaporated  before  it  had  trickled  a  hun- 
dred yards.  If  a  sleek  and  venomous  water-snake — for 
there  were  thousands  of  them  hereabout  —  had  coiled  in 
the  channel,  I  would  still  have  sucked  the  draught,  bending 
down  as  I  did.  Then  I  bethought  rne  of  my  pony.  He  had 
neither  been  fed  nor  watered"  for  twenty  hours,  and  I  has- 
tened to  obtain  him  from  his  place  along  the  woodside.  To 
my  terror,  he  was  gone.  Forgetful  of  my  weakness,  I 
passed  rapidly,  hither  and  thither,  inquiring  of  cavalry-men, 
and  entertaining  suspicions  of  every  person  in  the  vicinity. 
Finally,  I  espied  him  in  charge  of  a  rough,  thievish  sabre- 
man,  who  affected  not  to  see  me.  I  went  up  to  the  animal, 
and  pulled  the  reins  from  his  shoulder,  to  discover  the 
brand  mark,  —  "  U.  S."  As  I  surmised,  he  had  not  been 
branded,  and  I  turned  indignantly  upon  the  fellow  :  — 

"  My  friend,  how  came  you  by  this  horse  ?  " 

"  Quartermaster !  "  said  the  man,  guiltily. 

"  No  sir !  He  belongs  to  me.  Take  off  that  cavalry- 
saddle,  and  find  mine,  immediately." 

"  Not  if  the  court  knows  itself,"  said  the  man —  "  and  it 
thinks  it  do  !  " 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  189 

"  Then/'  said  I,  white  with  rage,  "  I  shall  report  you  at 
once,  for  theft." 

"You  may,  if  you  want  to,"  replied  the  man,  carelessly. 

I  struck  off  at  once  for  the  new  Provost  Quarters,  at  a 
farm-house,  close  by.  The  possible  failure  to  regain  my 
animal,  filled  me  with  rueful  thoughts.  How  was  I,  so 
dismounted,  to  reach  the  distant  river  ?  I  should  die,  or 
starve,  on  the  way.  I  thought  I  should  faint,  when  I  came 
to  the  end  of  the  first  field,  and  leaned,  tremblingly,  against 
a  tree.  I  caught  myself  sobbing,  directly,  like  a  girl,  and 
my  mind  ran  upon  the  coolness  of  my  home  with  my  own 
breezy  bedroom,  soft  paintings,  and  pleasant  books.  These 
themes  tortured  me  with  a  consciousness  of  my  folly.  I 
had  forsaken  them  for  the  wickednesses  of  this  unhappy 
campaign.  And  my  body  was  to  blacken  by  the  road-side,  — 
the  sable  birds  of  prey  were  to  be  my  mourners. 

But,  looking  through  my  tears,  a  moving  something 
passed  between  me  and  the  sky.  A  brownish  bay  pony, 
trailing  a  fence-rail  by  his  halter,  and  browsing  upon  patches 
of  oats.  I  whistled  thrice  and  the  faithful  animal  trotted 
to  my  feet,  and  extended  his  great  nose  to  be  rubbed.  I 
believe  that  this  horse  was  the  only  living  thing  in  the  army 
that  sympathized  with  me.  He  knew  that  I  was  sick,  and 
T  thought  once,  that,  like  the  great  dogs  of  Saint  Bernard, 
he  was  about  to  get  upon  his  knees,  that  I  might  the  more 
readily  climb  upon  his  back.  He  did,  however,  stand 
quietly,  while  I  mounted,  and  I  gave  him  a  drink  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill.  Returning,  I  saw  the  soldier,  wrongfully 
accused,  eyeing  me  from  his  haunt  beneath  the  trees.  I  at 
once  rode  over  to  him,  and  apologized  for  my  mistake. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  the  man,  complacently.  "  You  was 
all  right.  I  might  a  done  the  same  thing.  Fact  is,"  he 
added,  "I  did  hook  this  hoss,  but  I  knew  you  wan't  the 
party." 

During  the  rest  of  the  day  I  travelled  disconsolately,  up 
and  down  the  road,  winding  in  and  out  of  the  lines  of  teams. 


190  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

I  was  assured  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  get  to  tho 
James  till  next  day,  as  no  portion  of  that  army  had  yet  ad- 
vanced so  far.  The  moody  minutes  of  that  afternoon  made 
the  longest  part  of  my  life,  while  the  cannon  at  Peach 
Orchard  and  Savage's,  roared  and  growled  incessantly. 
Toward  the  close  of  the  day  I  fell  iu  with  Captain  Hill,  of 
the  New  York  Saratoga  regiment,  who  gave  me  the  outline 
of  the  fight. 

The  Confederates  had  discovered  that  we  were  falling 
back,  by  means  of  a  balloon,  of  home  manufacture,  —  the 
first  they  had  been  able  to  employ  during  the  entire  war. 
They  appeared  at  our  entrenchments  on  Sunday  morning, 
and  finding  them  deserted,  commenced  an  irregular  pursuit, 
whereby,  they  received  terrible  volleys  of  musketry  from 
ambuscaded  regiments,  and  retired,  in  disorder,  to  the  ram- 
parts. This  was  the  battle  of  "  Peach  Orchard/'  and  was 
disastrous  to  the  Southerners.  In  the  afternoon,  they 
again  essayed  to  advance,  but  more  cautiously.  The 
Federals,  meantime,  lay  in  order  of  battle  upon  Savage's, 
Dudley's,  and  Crouch's  farms,  their  right  resting  on  the 
Chickahominy,  their  centre  on  the  railroad,  and  their  left 
beyond  the  Williamsburg  turnpike.  For  a  time,  an  artillery 
contest  ensued,  and  the  hospitals  at  Savage's,  where  the 
wounded  lay,  were  thrice  fired  upon.  The  Confederates 
finally  penetrated  the  dense  woods  that  belted  this  country, 
and  the  battle,  at  nightfall,  became  fervid  and  sanguinary. 
The  Federals  held  their  ground  obstinately,  and  fell  back, 
covered  by  artillery,  at  midnight.  The  woods  were  set  on 
fire,  in  the  darkness,  and  conflagration  painted  fiery  terrors 
on  the  sky.  The  dead,  littered  all  the  fields  and  woods. 
The  retreating  army  had  marked  its  route  with  corpses. 
This  was  the  battle  of  "  Savage's,"  and  neither  party  has 
called  it  a  victory. 

During  the  rest  of  the  night  the  weary  fugitives  were 
crossing  White  Oak  Creek  and  Swamp.  Toward  daybreak, 
the  last  battery  had  accomplished  the  passage ;  the  bridge 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  191 

was  destroyed  ;  and  preparations  were  made  to  dispute  tho 
pursuit  in  the  morning1. 

I  noted  these  particulars  and  added  to  my  lists  of  dead  and 
captured.  At  dusk  I  was  about  to  sleep,  supperless,  upon 
the  bare  ground,  when  my  patron,  Colonel  Murphy,  again 
came  in  sight,  and  invited  me  to  occupy  a  shelter-tent,  on 
the  brow  of  the  hill  at  White  Oak.  To  my  great  joy,  he 
was  able  to  offer  me  some  stewed  beef,  bread  and  butter, 
and  hot  coffee.  I  ate  voraciously,  seizing  the  food  in  my 
naked  fingers,  and  rending  it  like  a  beast. 

The  regiment  of  Colonel  Murphy  was  composed  of 
laborers,  and  artificers  of  every  possible  description.  There 
were  blacksmiths,  moulders,  masons,  carpenters,  boat- 
builders,  joiners,  miners,  machinists,  riggers,  and  rope- 
makers.  They  eould  have  bridged  the  Mississippi,  rebuilt 
the  Tredegar  works,  finished  the  Tower  of  Babel,  drained 
the  Chesapeake,  constructed  the  Great  Eastern,  paved 
Broadway,  replaced  the  Grand  Trunk  railroad,  or  tunnelled 
the  Straits  of  Dover.  I  have  often  thought  that  the  real 
greatness  of  the  Northern  army  lay  in  its  ingenuity  and 
industry,  not  in  its  military  qualifications. 

Our  conversation  turned  upon  these  matters,  as  we  sat 
before  the  Colonel's  tent  in  the  evening,  and  a  Chaplain 
represented  the  feelings  of  the  North  in  this  manner  :  "  We 
must  whip  them.  We  have  got  more  money,  more  men, 
more  ships,  more  ingenuity.  They  are  bound  to  knuckle  at 
last.  If  we  have  to  lose  man  for  man  with  them,  their  host 
will  die  out  before  ours.  And  we  wont  give  up  the  Union, 

—  not  a  piece  of  it  big  enough  for  a  bird  or  a  bee  to  cover, 

—  though  we   reduce   these  thirty  millions  one  half,  and 
leave  only  the  women  and  children  to  inherit  the  land." 
The  heart  of  the  army  was  now  cast  down,  though  a  large 
portion  of  the  soldiers  did  not  know  why  we  were  falling 
back.     I  heard  moody,  despondent,  accusing  mutterings, 
around  the  camp-fires,  and  my  own  mind  was  full  of  grief 
and  bitterness.     It  seemed  that  our  old  flag  had  descended 


192  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

to  a  degenerate  people.  It  was  not  now,  as  formerly,  a 
proud  recollection  that  I  was  an  American.  If  "I  survived 
the  retreat,  it  would  become  my  mission  to  herald  the  evil 
tidings  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land.  If  I 
fainted  in  their  pursuit,  a  loathsome  prison,  or  a  grave  in  the 
trenches,  were  to  be  my  awards.  When  I  lay  down  in  a 
shelter-tent,  rolling  from  side  to  side,  I  remembered  that  this 
was  the  Sabbath  day.  A  battle  Sabbath  1  How  this  din 
and  slaughter  contrasted  with  my  dear  old  Lord's  days  in 
the  prayerful  parsonage  !  The  chimes  in  the  white  spire, 
where  the  pigeons  cooed  in  the  hush  of  the  singing,  were 
changed  to  cannon  peals  ;  and  the  boys  that  dozed  in  the 
"  Amen  corner,"  were  asleep  forever  in  the  trampled  grain- 
fields.  The  good  parson,  whose  clauses  were  not  less 
truthful,  because  spoken  through  his  noae,  now  blew  the 
loud  trumpet  for  the  babes  he  had  baptized,  to  join  the  Cap- 
tains of  fifties  and  thousands  ;  and  while  the  feeble  old 
women  in  the  side  pews  made  tremulous  responses  to  the 
prayer  for  "  thy  soldiers  fighting  in  thy  cause,"  the  banners 
of  the  Eepublic  were  craped,  dusty,  and  bloody,  and  the 
scattered  regiments  were  resting  upon  their  arms  for  the 
shock  of  the  coming  dawn. 

Thus  I  thought,  tossing  and  talking  through  the  long 
watches,  and  toward  morning,  when  sleep  brought  fever- 
dreams,  a  monstrous  something  leered  at  me  from  the  black- 
ness, saying,  in  a  sort  of  music  — 

"  Gobbled  up  I     Gobbled  up  1 " 


-- 

•\. 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 

BY   THE   EIVERSIDE. 

A  CRASH  and  a  stunning  shock,  as  of  a  falling  sphere, 
aroused  me  at  nine  o'clock.  A  shell  had  burst  in  front  of 
our  tent,  and  the  enemy's  artillery  was  thundering  from 
Casey's  old  hill,  beyond  the  swamp.  As  I  hastily  drew  on 
my  boots,  —  for  I  had  not  otherwise  undressed,  —  I  had 
opportunity  to  remark  one  of  those  unaccountable  panics 
which  develop  among  civilian  soldiers.  The  camps  were 
plunged  into  disorder.  As  the  shells  dropped  here  and 
there,  among  the  tents  and  teams,  the  wildest  and  most 
fearful  deeds  were  enacted.  Here  a  caisson  blew  up,  tear- 
ing the  horses  to  pieces,  and  whirling  a  cannoneer  among 
the  clouds.  There  an  ammunition  wagon  exploded,  and  the 
air  seemed  to  be  filled  with  fragments  of  wood,  iron,  and 
flesh.  A  boy  stood  at  one  of  the  fires,  combing  out  his 
matted  hair;  suddenly  his  head  flew  off,  spattering  the 
brains,  and  the  shell  —  which  we  could  not  see — exploded 
in  a  piece  of  woods,  mutilating  the  trees.  The  effect  upon 
the  people  around  me  was  instantaneous  and  appalling. 
Some,  that  were  partially  dressed,  took  to  their  heels,  hug- 
ging a  medley  of  clothing.  The  teamsters  climbed  into  the 
saddles,  and  shouted  to  their  nags,  whipping  them  the 
while.  If  the  heavy  wheels  hesitated  to  revolve,  they  left 
horses  and  vehicles  to  their  fate,  taking  themselves  to  the 
woods ;  or,  as  in  some  cases,  cut  traces  and  harness,  and 
galloped  away  like  madmen.  In  a  twinkling  our  camps 
17  (193) 


194  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NOX-COMRATAXT. 

were  almost  deserted,  and  the  fields,  woods,  and  roads  were 
alive  with  fugitives,  rushing,  swearing,  falling,  and  tram- 
pling, while  the  fierce  bolts  fell  momentarily  among  them, 
making  havoc  at  every  rod. 

To  join  this  flying,  dying  mass  was  my  first  impulse  ;  but 
after-thought  reminded  me  that  it  would  be  better  to  remain. 
I  must  not  leave  my  horse,  for  I  could  not  walk  the  whole 
long  way  to  the  James,  and  the  fever  had  so  reduced  me 
that  I  hardly  cared  to  keep  the  little  life  remaining.  I 
almost  marvelled  at  my  coolness ;  since,  in  the  fulness  of 
strength  and  health,  I  should  have  been  one  of  the  first  of 
the  fugitives  ;  whereas,  I  now  looked  interestedly  upon  the 
exciting  spectacle,  and  wished  that  it  could  be  daguerreo- 
typed. 

Before  our  artillery  could  be  brought  to  play,  the  enemy, 
emboldened  at  his  success,  pushed  a  column  of  infantry 
down  the  hill,  to  cross  the  creek,  and  engage  us  on  our 
camping-ground.  For  a  time  I  believed  that  he  would  be 
successful,  and  in  that  event,  confusion  and  ruin  would  have 
overtaken  the  Unionists.  The  gray  and  butternut  lines 
appeared  over  the  brow  of  the  hill,  —  they  wound  at  double 
quick  through  the  narrow  defile,  —  they  poured  a  volley 
into  our  camps  when  half-way  down,  and  under  cover  of  th6 
smoke  they  dashed  forward  impetuously,  with  a  loud  huzza. 
The  artillery  beyond  them  kept  up  a  steady  fire,  raining 
shell,  grape,  and  canister  over  their  heads,  and  ploughing 
the  ground  on  our  side,  into  zigzag  furrows,  —  rending  the 
trees,  shattering  the  ambulances,  tearing  the  tents  to  tat- 
ters, slaying  the  horses,  butchering  the  men.  Directly 
Captain  Mott's  battery  was  brought  to  bear  ;  but  before  he 
could  open  fire,  a  solid  shot  struck  one  of  his  twelve- 
pounders,  breaking  the  trunnion  and  splintering  the  wheels. 
In  like  manner  one  of  his  caissons  blew  up,  and  I  do  not 
think  that  he  was  able  to  make  any  practise  whatever.  A 
division  of  infantry  was  now  marched  forward,  to  engage 
the  Confederates  at  the  creek  side ;  but  two  of  the  regi- 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

ments  —  and  I  think  that  one  was  th^  20th  New  York  — 
turned  bodily,  and  could  not  be  rallied.  The  moment  was 
full  of  significance,  and  I  beheld  these  failures  with  breath- 
less suspense.  In  five  minutes  the  pursuers  would  gain  the 
creek,  and  in  ten,  drive  our  dismayed  battalions,  like  chaff 
before  the  wind.  I  hurried  to  my  horse,  that  I  might  be 
ready  to  escape.  The  shell  and  ball  still  made  music  around 
me.  I  buckled  up  my  saddle  with  tremulous  fingers,  and 
poit  my  foot  upon  the  stirrup.  But  a  cheer  recalled  me  and 
a  great  clapping  of  hands,  as  at  some  clever  performance 
in  the  amphitheatre.  I  looked  again.  A  battery  from  our 
position  across  the  road,  had  opened  upon  the  Confederate 
infantry,  as  they  reached  the  very  brink  of  the  swamp. 
For  a  moment  the  bayonets  tossed  wildly,  the  dense  col- 
umn staggered  like  a  drunken  man,  the  flags  rose  and  fell, 
and  then  the  line  fell  back  disorderly.  At  that  instant  a 
body  of  Federal  infantry,  that  I  had  not  seen,  appeared,  as 
by  invocation ;  their  steel  fell  flashingly,  a  column  of  smoke 
enveloped  them,  the  hills  and  skies  seemed  to  split  asunder 
with  the  shock, — and  when  I  looked  again,  the  road  was 
strewn  with  the  dying  and  dead  ;  the  pass  had  been  de- 
fended. 

As  the  batteries  still  continued  to  play,  and  as  the  pros- 
pect of  uninterrupted  battle  during  the  day  was  not  a  whit 
abated,  I  decided  to  resume  my  saddle,  and,  if  possible, 
make  my  way  to  the  James.  The  geography  of  the  coun- 
try, as  I  had  deciphered  it,  satisfied  me  that  I  must  pass 
"  New  Market,"  before  I  could  rely  upon  my  personal 
safety.  New  Market  was.  a  paltry  cross-road's  hamlet, 
some  miles  ahead,  but  as  near  to  Richmond  as  White  Oak 
Creek.  The  probabilities  were,  that  the  Confederates  would 
endeavor  to  intercept  us  at  this  point,  and  so  attack  us  in 
flank  and  rear.  As  I  did  not  witness  either  of  these  battles, 
though  I  heard  the  discharge  of  every  musket,  it  may  be  as 
well  to  state,  in  brief,  that  June  30  was  marked  by  the 
bloodiest  of  all  the  Richmond  struggles,  excepting,  possibly, 


196  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

Gaines's  Mill.  While  the  Southern  artillery  engaged 
Franklin's  corps,  at  White  Oak  Crossing,  and  their  left 
made  several  unavailing  attemps  to  ford  the  creek  with  in- 
fantry, —  their  entire  »ght  and  centre,  marched  out  the 
Charles  City  Eoad,  and  gave  impetuous  battle  at  New 
Market.  The  accounts  and  the  results  indicate  that  the 
Federals  won  the  day  at  New  Market,  sheerly  by  good 
fighting.  They  were  parching  with  thirst,  weak  with  hun- 
ger, and  it  might  have  been  supposed  that  reverses  had 
broken  their  spirit.  On  the  contrary  they  did  not  fall  back 
a  rod,  during  the  whole  day,  and  at  evening  Heintzelman's 
corps  crowned  their  success  by  a  grand  charge,  whereat 
the  Confederates  broke  and  were  pursued  three  miles 
toward  Richmond.  The  gunboats  Galena  and  Aroostook, 
lying  in  the  James  at  Turkey  Bend,  opened  fire  at  three 
o'clock,  and  killed  promiscuously,  Federals  and  Confeder- 
ates. But  the  Southern  soldiers  were  superstitous  as  to 
gunboats,  and  they  could  not  be  made  to  approach  within 
range  of  the  Galena's  monstrous  projectiles. 

I  shall  always  recall  my  journey  from  White  Oak  to  Har- 
rison's Bar,  as  marked  by  constantly  increasing  beauties  of 
scenery,  and  terrors  of  event.  At  every  hoof-fall  I  was 
leaving  the  low,  boggy,  sparsely  settled  Chickahominy 
region,  for  the  high  farm-lands  of  the  James.  The  dwell- 
ings, as  I  progressed,  became  handsome ;  the  negro  quar- 
ters were  less  like  huts  and  cattle-sheds ;  the  ripe  wheat- 
fields  stretched  almost  to  the  horizon  ;  the  lawns  and  lanes 
were  lined  with  ancient  shade-trees  ;  there  were  picturesque 
gates  and  lodges ;  the  fences  were  straight  and  white- 
washed, there  were  orchards,  heavy  with  crimson  apples, 
where  the  pumpkins  lay  beneath,  like  globes  of  gold,  in 
the  rows  of  amber  corn.  Into  this  patriarchal  and  luxuri- 
ant country,  the  retreating  army  wound  like  a  great  devour- 
ing serpent.  It  was  to  me,  the  coming  back  of  the  beaten 
jetters  through  Midgards,  or  the  repulse  of  the  fallen  angels 
from  heaven,  trampling  down  the  river-sides  of  Eden. 


CAMPAIGNS   OF    A   NOX-COMBATANT.  197 

They  rode  their  team-horses  into  the  wavy  wheat,  and  in 
some  places,  where  the  reapers  had  been  at  work,  they 
dragged  the  sheaves  from  the  stacks,  and  rested  upon  them. 
Hearing  of  the  coming  of  the  army,  the  proprietors  had 
vainly  endeavored  to  gather  their  crops,  but  the  negroes 
would  not  work,  and  they  had  not  modern  implements, 
whereby  to  mow  the  grain  rapidly.  The  profanation  of 
those  glorious  stretches  of  corn  and  rye  were  to  me  some 
of  the  most  melancholy  episodes  of  the  war.  No  mind  can 
realize  how  the  grain-fields  used  to  ripple,  when  the  fresh 
breezes  blew  up  and  down  the  furrows,  and  the  hot  suns 
of  that  almost  tropical  climate,  had  yielded  each  separate 
head  till  the  whole  landscape  was  like  a  bright  cloud,  or  a 
golden  sea.  The  tall,  shapely  stalks  seemed  to  reach  out 
imploringly,  like  sunny-haired  virgins,  waiting  to  be  gathered 
into  the  arms  of  the  farmer.  They  were  the  Sabine  women, 
on  the  eve  of  the  bridal,  when  the  insatiate  Romans  tore 
them  away  and  trampled  them.  The  Indian  corn  was  yet 
green,  but  so  tall  that  the  tasselled  tops  showed  how  cun- 
ningly the  young  ears  were  ripening.  There  were  melons 
in  the  corn-rows,  that  a  week  would  have  developed,  but 
the  soldiers  dashed  them  open  and  sucked  the  sweet  water. 
They  threw  clubs  at  the  hanging  apples  till  the  ground  was 
littered  with  them,  and  the  hogs  came  afield  to  gorge ; 
they  slew  the  hogs  and  divided  the  fresh  pork  among 
themselves.  As  I  saw,  in  one  place,  dozens  of  huge 
German  cavalry-men,  asleep  upon  bundles  of  wheat,  I 
recalled  their  Frankish  forefathers,  swarming  down  the 
Apennines,  upon  Italy. 

The  air  was  so  sultry  during  a  part  of  the  day,  that  one 
was  constantly  athirst.  But  there  was  a  belt  of  country, 
four  miles  or  more  in  width,  where  there  seemed  to  be 
neither  rills  nor  wells.  Happily,  the  roads  were,  in  great 
part,  enveloped  in  stately  timber,  and  the  shade  was  very 
grateful  to  men  and  horses.  The  wounded  still  kept  with 
us,  and  many  that  were  fevered.  They  did  not  complain 
17* 


198  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

with  words  ;  but  tlicir  rod  eyes  and  painful  pace  told  all  the 
story.  If  we  came  to  rivulets,  they  used  to  lie  upon  their 
bellies,  along  the  margins,  with  their  heads  in  the  flowing 
water.  The  nags  were  so  stiff  and  hot,  that,  when  they 
were  reined  into  creeks,  they  refused  to  go  forward,  and  my 
brown  animal  once  dropped  upon  his  knees,  and  quietly 
surveyed  me,  as  I  pitched  upon  my  hands,  floundering  in 
the  pool.  I  remember  a  stone  dairy,  such  as  are  found 
upon  Pennsylvania  grazing  farms,  where  I  stopped  to  drink. 
It  lay  up  a  lane,  some  distance  from  the  road,  and  two  enor- 
mous tulip  poplar  trees  sheltered  and  half-concealed  it.  A 
tiny  creek  ran  through  the  dairy,  over  cool  granite  slabs, 
and  dozens  of  earthen  milk-bowls  lay  in  the  water,  with  the 
mould  of  the  cream  brimming  at  the  surface.  A  pewter 
drinking-mug  hung  to  a  peg  at  the  side,  and  there  were 
wooden  spoons  for  skimming,  straining  pails,  and  great 
ladles  of  gourd  and  cocoanut.  A  cooler,  tidier,  trimmer 
dairy,  I  had  not  seen,  and  I  stretched  out  my  body  upon  the 
dry  slabs,  to  drink  from  one  of  the  milk-bowls.  The  cream 
was  sweet,  rich,  and  nourishing,  and  I  was  so  absorbed  di- 
rectly, that  I  did  not  heed  the  footfalls  of  a  tall,  broad,  vig- 
orous man,  who  said  in  a  quiet  way,  but  with  a  deep,  sono- 
rous voice,  and  a  decided  Northern  twang  — 

"  Friend,  you  might  take  the  mug.  Some  of  your  com- 
rades will  want  to  drink  from  that  bowl." 

I  begged  his  pardon  hastily,  and  said  that  I  supposed  he 
was  the  proprietor. 

"  I  reckon  that  I  must  give  over  my  ownership,  while  the 
army  hangs  around  here,"  said  the  man  ;  "  but  I  must  en- 
dure what  I  can't  cure." 

Here  he  smiled  grimly,  and  reached  down  the  pewter 
cup.  Then  he  bent  over  a  fresh  bowl,  and  dexterously 
dipped  the  cup  full  of  milk,  without  seeming  to  break  the 
cream. 

"  Drink  that,"  he  said ;  "  and  if  there's  any  better  milk 
in  these  parts,  I  want  to  know  the  man." 


CASil'AlQXS    OF   A   NOX-COMBATAXT.  199 

lie  looked  at  me  critically,  while  I  emptied  the  vessel, 
and  seemed  to  enjoy  my  heartiness. 

"If  you  had  boon  smart  enough  to  come  this  way,  victo- 
rious," added  the  man,  straightforwardly,  "instead  of  being 
out-generalled,  whipped,  and  driven,  I  should  enjoy  the  loss 
of  my  property  a  great  deal  more  !  " 

There  was  an  irresistible  heartiness  in  his  tone  and  man- 
ner. He  had,  evidently,  resolved  to  bear  the  misfortunes 
of  war  bravely. 

"  Yoii  are  a  Northern  man?  "  I  said,  inquiringly. 

"How  do  you  know  ?" 

"  There  are  no  such  dairies  in  Virginia  ;  a  Virginian  never 
dipped  a  mug  of  milk  after  your  fashion  ;  you  haven't  the 
Virginia  inflection,  and  very  weak  Virginia  principles." 

The  man  laughed  dryly,  and  filled  himself  a  cup,  which 
he  drank  sedately. 

"  I  reckon  you  are  correct,"  he  said  ;  "pretty  much  cor- 
rect, any  way.  I'm  a  New  Yorker,  from  the  Mohawk 
Valley,  and  I  have  been  showing  these  folks  how  they  can't 
farm.  If  there's  anybody  that  farms  better  than  I  do,  1 
want  to  know  the  man  !  " 

He  looked  at  the  flowing  water,  the  clean  slabs  and  walls, 
the  shining  tins,  and  smacked  his  lips  satisfactorily.  I 
asked  him  if  he  farmed  with  negroes,  and  if  the  prejudices 
of  the  countiy  affected  either  his  social  or  industrial  inter- 
ests. He  answered  that  he  was  obliged  to  employ  negroes, 
as  he  had  thrice  tried  the  experiment  of  working  with 
whites,  but  with  ill  success. 

"/would  have  kept  'em,"  he  added,  in  his  great  voice, 
closing  a  prodigious  fist,  "  but  the  men  would  not  stay.  I 
couldn't  make  the  neighbors  respect  them.  There  was  no- 
body for  'em  to  associate  with.  They  were  looked  upon  as 
niggers,  and  they  got  to  feel  it  after  a  while.  So  I  have 
had  only  niggers  latterly ;  but  I  get  more  work  from  them 
than  any  other  man  in  these  parts.  If  there's  anybody  that 
gets  more  work  out  of  niggers  than  I  do,  I  want  to  know 
the  man  1  " 


200  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A    SOX-COMBATANT. 

There  was  a  sort  of  hard,  hearty  defiance  about  him,  typ- 
ical of  his  severe,  angular  race,  and  I  studied  his  large  limbs 
and  grim,  full  face  with  curious  admiration.  He  told  me 
that  he  hired  his  negro  hands  from  the  surrounding  slave- 
owners, and  that  he  gave  them  premiums  upon  excess  of 
work,  approximating  to  wages.  In  this  way  they  were  en- 
couraged to  habits  of  economy,  perseverance,  and  spright- 
liness. 

"  I  don't  own  a  nigger,"  he  said,  "  not  one  !  But  I  don't 
think  a  nigger's  much  too  good  to  be  a  slave.  I  won't  bo 
bothered  with  owning  'em.  And  I  won't  be  conquered 
into  '  the  institution.'  I  said,  when  I  commenced,  that  I 
should  not  buy  niggers,  and  I  won't  buy  niggers,  because 
I  said  so  !  As  to  social  disadvantages,  every  Northern  man 
has  'em  here.  They  called  me  an  abolitionist ;  and  a  fel- 
low at  the  hotel  in  Richmond  did  so  to  my  face.  I  knocked 
him  into  a  heap,  and  nobody  has  meddled  with  me  since. 
"Of  course,"  he  said,  after  a  moment,  "it  won't  do  to  in- 
flame these  people.  These  people  are  like  my  bulls,  and 
you  mustn't  shake  a  red  stick  at  'em.  Besides,  I'm  not  a 
fanatic.  I  never  was.  My  wife's  one  of  these  people,  and 
I  let  her  think  as  she  likes.  But,  if  there's  anybody  in 
these  parts  that  wants  to  interfere  with  me,  I  should  like  to 
know  the  man  !  " 

The  contemptuous  tone  in  which  he  mentioned  "these 
people  "  amused  me  infinitely,  and  I  believed  that  his  reso- 
lute, indomitable  manner  would  have  made  him  popular  in 
any  society.  lie  was  shrewd,  withal,  and  walked  beside 
me  to  his  gate.  When  the  regiments  halted  to  rest,  by  the 
wayside,  he  invited  the  field  officers  to  the  dairy,  and  so 
obtained  guards  to  rid  him  of  depredators.  He  would  have 
escaped  very  handsomely,  but  the  hand  of  war  was  not 
always  so  merciful,  and  a  part  of  the  battle  of  Malvern  Hills 
was  fought  upon  his  property.  I  have  no  doubt  that  he 
submitted  unflinchingly,  and  sat  more  stolidly  amid  the 
wreck  than  old  Marius  in  battered  Carthage. 


CAMPAIGNS   OF  A  NON-COMBATANT.  201 

Until  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  I  rode  leisurely  south- 
ward, under  a  scorching  sky,  but  still  bearing  up,  though 
aflame  with  fever.  The  guns  thundered  continuously  be- 
hind, and  the,  narrow  roads  were  filled,  all  the  way,  with 
hurrying  teams,  cavalry,  cannon,  and  foot  soldiers.  I 
stopped,  a  while,  by  a  white  frame  church,  —  primly, 
squarely  built,  —  and  read  the  inscriptions  upon  the  tombs 
uninterestedly.  Some  of  the  soldiers  had  pried  open  the 
doors,  and  a  wounded  Zouave  was  delivering  a  mock  ser- 
mon from  the  pulpit.  Some  of  his  comrades  broke  up  the 
meeting  by  singing  — 

"John  Brown's  body  lies  a  mouldering  in  the  grave," 

and  then  a  Major  ordered  them  out,  and  put  a  guard  upon 
the  building.     The  guard  played  cards  xipon  the  door  sills. 

I  was  frequently  obliged,  by  the  crowded  state  of  the 
roads,  to  turn  aside  into  woods,  fens,  and  fields,  and  so 
make  precarious  progress.  Sometimes  I  strayed,  unwit- 
tingly, a  good  way  from  the  army,  and  recovered  the  route 
with  difficulty.  On  one  of  these  occasions,  I  was  surprised 
by  a  person  in  civil  dress,  who  seemed  to  shoot  up  out  of 
the  ground.  He  was  the  queerest,  grimest,  fearfulest  man 
that  I  have  ever  known,  and,  at  first,  I  thought  that  the 
arch  fiend  had  appeared  before  me.  The  wood  was  very 
deep  here,  and  there  were  no  wayfarers  but  we  two.  It 
was  quite  still ;  but  now  and  then  we  heard  the  rumble  of 
wagons,  and  the  crack  of  teamster's  whips.  The  man  in 
question  wore  dead  black  beard,  and  his  eyebrows  were  of 
the  same  intense,  lustreless  hue.  So  were  his  eyes  and  his 
hair ;  but  the  latter  formed  a  circle  or  cowl  around  his  head. 
He  had  a  pale  skin,  his  fingers  were  long  and  bony,  and  he 
rode  dexterously  in  a"nd  out,  among  the  tree  boles,  with  his 
hat  in  his  hand.  His  horse  was  as  black  as  himself,  and, 
together,  they  made  a  half-brigandish,  half-satanic  appear- 
ance. 


202  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

I  reined  in  sharply,  when  I  saw  this  person,  and  he  looked 
at  me  like  the  evil-eye,  through  his  great  owlish  orbs. 

"  Good  day,"  he  said,  in  profound  basso,  as  low  I  think 
as  "  double  G,"  and  when  he  opened  his  mouth,  I  saw  that 
his  teeth  were  very  white. 

I  saluted  him  gravely,  and,  not  without  a  shudder,  rode 
beside  him.  He  proved  to  be  a  sort  of  Missionary,  from 
the  Evangelical  religious  denominations  of  the  North,  to  in- 
quire into  the  spiritual  condition  of  the  soldiers.  Camps 
were  full  of  such  people,  but  I  had  not  found  any  man  who 
appeared  to  be  less  qualified  for  his  vocation  ;  to  have  such 
a  figure  at  one's  deathbed,  would  be  like  a  foretaste  of  the 
great  fiend.  He  had  a  fashion  of  working  his  scalp  half 
way  down  to  his  eyes,  as  he  spoke,  and  when  he  smiled,  — 
though  he  never  laughed  aloud,  —  his  eyelashes  did  not  con- 
tract, as  with  most  people,  but  rather  expanded,  till  his  eye- 
balls projected  from  his  head.  On  such  occasions,  his 
white  teeth  were  revealed  like  a  row  of  fangs,  and  his  lep- 
rous skin  grew  yet  paler. 

"The  army  has  not  even  the  form  of  godliness,"  said 
this  man.  In  the  course  of  his  remarks,  he  had  discovered 
that  I  was  a  correspondent,  and  at  once  turned  the  conver- 
sation into  a  politico-religious  channel. 

"  The  form  of  godliness  is  gone,"  said  the  man  again  in 
"  double  G."  "  This  is  a  calamitous  fact !  I  would  it  were 
not  so !  I  grieve  to  state  it !  But  inquiry  into  the  fact, 
has  satisfied  me  that  the  form  of  godliness  does  not  exist. 
Ah  ! " 

When  the  man  said  "  Ah !  "  I  thought  that  my  horse 
would  run  away,  and  really,  the  tone  was  like  the  deep  con- 
juration in  Hamlet :  "  swear-r-r-r  !  " 

"  For  example,"  said  the  man,  who  told  me  that-  his 
name  was  Dimpdin,  —  "I  made  some  remarks  to  the  1st 
New  Jersey,  on  Sabbath  week.  The  field  officers  directed 
the  men  to  attend ;  I  opened  divine  service  with  a  feeling 
hymn  ;  a  very  feeling  hymn  !  A  long  measure  hymn  !  By 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  203 

Montgomery  !  I  commenced  earnestly  in  prayer.  In  appro- 
priate prayer  !  I  spoke  advisedly  for  a  short  hour.  What 
were  the  results  ?  The  deplorable  results  ?  There  were 
men,  sir,  in  that  assembly,  who  went  to  sleep.  To 
sleep  !  " 

lie  must  have  gone  a  great  way  below  "  double  G,"  this 
time,  and  I  did  not  see  how  he  could  get  back.  He  drew 
his  scalp  quite  down  to  the  bridge  of  his  nose,  and,  seeing 
that  my  horse  pricked  up  his  ears,  timorously  smiled  like 
the  idol  of  Baal. 

"  There  were  men,  sir,  who  did  worse.  Not  simply  fail- 
ing to  be  hearers  of  the  word  !  But  doers  of  evil !  Men 
who  played  cards  during  the  service.  Played  cards  !  Gam- 
bled !  Gambled  !  And  some,  —  abandoned  wretches  !  — 
who  mocked .  me  !  Lifted  up  their  voices  and  mocked  ! 
Mockers,  gamblers,  slumberers  I  " 

I  never  heard  anything  so  awful  as  the  man  Dimpdin's 
voice,  at  the  iteration  of  these  three  words.  They  seemed 
to  come  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  and  rang  through  the 
wood  like  the  growl  of  a  lion.  He  told  me  that  he  was  en- 
gaged upon  a  Memorial  to  the  Evangelical  Union,  which 
should  state  the  number  of  unconverted  men  in  the  ranks, 
and  the  number  of  castaways.  He  accredited  the  loss  of 
the  campaign  to  the  prevailing  wickedness,  but  was  unwill- 
ing to  admit  that  the  Southern  troops  were  more  religious. 
His  theory  of  reform,  if  I  remember  it,  embraced  the  rais- 
ing of  Chaplains  to  the  rank  of  Major,  with  proportionate 
pay  and  perquisites,  the  establishment  of  a  military  re- 
ligious bureau,  and  a  Chaplain-General  with  Aides.  Each 
soldier,  officer,  teamster,  and  drummer-boy  was  to  have  a 
Testament  in  his  knapsack,  and  services  should  be  held  on 
the  eve  of  every  battle,  and  at  roll-call  in  the  mornings. 
There  was  to  be  an  inspection  of  Testaments  as  of  muskets. 
For  swearing,  a  certain  sum  should  be  subtracted  from  the 
soldier's  pay,  and  conferred  upon  the  Chaplains. 

"  In  fact,"  said  Dimpdin,  tragically,  —  scalping  himself 


204  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

meanwhile, — the  church  must  be  recognized  in  every 
department,  and  if  my  Memorial  be  acted  upon  favorably, 
we  shall  have  such  victories,  in  three  months,  as  will  sweep 
Rebellion  into  the  grave.  Yes  !  Into  the  grave  !  The 
grave ! " 

I  was  obliged  to  say,  here,  that  my  horse  could  not  stand 
these  sepulchral  noises,  and  that  my  nerves,  being  shattered 
by  the  fever,  were  inadequate  to  bear  the  shock.  So  the 
man  Dimpdin  smiled,  like  a  window-mummy,  and  contented 
himself  with  looking  like  Apollyon.  We  reached  a  rill 
directly,  and  he  produced  a  wicker  flask,  with  a  Britannia 
drinking-case. 

"  Young  men  love  stimulating  drinks,"  said  Dimpdin, — 
strong  drinks !  alcholic  drinks !  Here  is  a  portion  of 
Monongahela !  old  Monongahela  !  We  will  refresh  our- 
selves ! " 

He  found  a  lemon,  accidentally,  in  his  saddle-bag,  and 
contrived  an  informal  punch,  with  wonderful  dexterity.  1 
took  a  draught  modestly,  and  he  emptied  the  rest,  with  an 
"  Ah  !  "  that  shook  the  woods. 

I  wondered  if  the  man  Dimpdin  would  suggest  the 
apportionment  of  flasks  to  soldiers,  in  his  Evangelical 
report !  * 

He  left  me,  when  we  regained  the  road,  to  ride  with  a 
lithe,  bronchial  person,  in  white  neckcloth  and  coat  cut 
close  at  the  collar.  They  looked  like  the  fox  and  the  fiend, 
in  the  fable,  and  I  seemed  to  hear  the  man  Dimpdin's  voice 
for  three  succeeding  weeks. 

At  three  o'clock,  I  climbed  a  gentle  hill, — and  I  was 
now  very  weary  and  weak,  —  and  from  the  summit,  looked 
upon  the  river  James,  flowing  far  off  to  the  right,  through 
woods,  and  bluffs,  and  grainfields,  and  reedy  islands.  At 
last,  I  had  gained  the  haven.  The  bright  waters  below  me 
seemed  to  cool  my  red,  fiery  eyes,  and  a  sort  of  blessed 
blindness  fell  for  a  time  upon  me,  so  that,  when  I  looked 
again  my  lashes  were  wet.  The  prospect  was  truly  beauti- 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  205 

ful.  Far  to  the  west,  standing  out  from  the  chalky  bluffs, 
were  scattered  the  white  camps  of  Wise's  Confederate 
brigade.  Beyond,  on  the  remote  bank  of  the  river,  lay 
farm-lands,  and  stately  mansions,  and  some  one  showed  me, 
rising  faintly  in  the  distance,  "  Drury's  Bluff,"  the  site  of 
Fort  Darling,  where  the  gunboats  were  repulsed  in  the 
middle  of  May.  Below,  in  the  river,  lay  the  Galena,  and  a 
little  way  astern,  the  Aroostook.  Signal-men,  with  flags, 
were  elevated  upon  the  masts  of  each,  and  the  gunners 
stoqd  upon  the  decks,  as  waiting  some  emergency.  The 
vessels  had  steam  up,  and  seemed  to  be  ready  for  action  at 
any  moment.  This  was  Grand  Turkey  Bend,  and  the  rising 
ground  on  which  I  stood,  was  known  as  "  Malvern  Hills." 
A  farm-house  lay  to  my  left,  and  repairing  thither,  I  cast 
myself  from  the  nag,  and  lay  down  in  the  shady  yard, 
thankful  that  I  had  reached  the  haven,  and  only  solicitous 
now  to  escape  the  further  privations  of  McClellan's  Penin- 
sular Campaign. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

THE   HOSPITAL    TRANSPORT. 

AN  earnest  desire  now  took  possession  of  me,  to  be  the 
first  of  the  correspondents  to  reach  New  Yorh.  The  scenes 
just  transpired  had  been  unparalleled  in  the  war,  and  if, 

through   me,    the should  be   the   first  to   make   them 

public,  it  would  greatly  redound  to  my  credit.  Perhaps  no 
profession  imparts  an  enthusiasm  in  any  measure  kindred  to 
that  of  the  American  Newsgatherer.  I  was  careless  of  the 
lost  lives  and  imperilled  interests,  the  suff^ng,  the  defeat : 
no  emotions  either  of  the  patriot  or  the  man  influenced  me. 
I  only  thought  of  the  eclat  of  giving  the  story  to  the  world, 
and  nurtured  an  insane  desire  to  make  to  Fortress  Monroe, 
by  some  other  than  the  common  expedient.  That  this  was 
a  paltry  ambition  I  know ;  but  I  write  what  happened,  and 
to  the  completion  of  my  sketch  of  a  correspondent,  this  is 
necessary  to  be  said.  I  found  Glumley  at  the  old  mansion 
referred  to,  and  stealthily  suggested  to  him  the  seizing  of 
an  open  boat,  whereby  we  might  row  down  to  the  Fortress. 
He  rejected  it  as  impracticable,  but  was  willing  to  hazard  a 
horseback  ride  down  the  Peninsula.  I  knew  that  this  would 
not  do,  and  after  a  short  time  I  continued  my  journey  down 
the  riverside,  hopeful  of  finding  some  transport  or  Despatch 
boat.  I  was  now  in  Charles  City  County,  and  the  river 
below  me  was  dotted  with  woodland  islands.  I  soon  got 
upon  the  main  road  to  Harrison's  Point  or  Bar,  and  followed 
the  stream  of  ambulances  and  supply  teams  for  more  than 

(206) 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    NON-COMBATANT.  207 

an  hour.  At  last  we  reached  a  diverging  lane,  through 
which  we  passed  to  a  landing,  close  to  a  fine  dwelling, 
whose  style  of  architecture  I  may  denominate,  the  "  Gothic 
run  mad."  An  old  cider-press  was  falling  into  rottenness  on 
the  lawn  ;  four  soldiers  were  guarding  the  well,  that  the 
mob  might  not  exhaust  its  precious  contents,  and  between 
some  negro-huts  and  the  brink  of  the  bluff,  stood  a  cluster 
of  broad-armed  trees,  beneath  whose  shade  the  ambulance- 
drivers  were  depositing  the  wounded. 

I  have  made  these  chapters  sufficiently  hideous,  without 
venturing  to  transcribe  these  new  horrors.  Suffice  it  to 
say  that  the  men  whom  I  now  beheld  had  been  freshly 
brought  from  the  fight  of  New  Market,  and  were  suffering 
the  first  agonies  of  their  wounds.  One  hour  before,  they 
had  felt  all  the  lustiness  of  life  and  adventure.  Now,  they 
were  whining  like  babes,  and  some  had  expired  in  the  am- 
bulances. The  act  of  lifting  them  to  the  ground  so  irritated 
their  wounds  that  they  howled  dismally,  and  yet  were  so 
exhausted  that  after  lying  upon  the  ground  awhile,  they 
quietly  passed  into  sleep.  Such  are  the  hardening  results 
of  war,  that  some  soldiers,  who  were  unhurt,  actually  re- 
fused to  give  a  trifle  of  river  water  from  their-  canteens  to 
their  expiring  comrades.  At  one  time  a  brutal  wrangle  oc- 
curred at  the  well,  and  the  guard  was  compelled  to  seek 
reinforcement,  or  the  thirsty  people  would  have  massacred 
them. 

I  was  now  momentarily  adding  to  my  notes  of  the  bat- 
tles, and  the  wounded  men  very  readily  gave  me  their 
names  ;  for  they  were  anxious  that  the  account  of  their 
misfortunes  sbould  reach  their  families,  and  I  think  also, 
that  some  martial  vanity  lingered,  even  among  those  who 
were  shortly  to  crumble  away.  A  longboat  came  in  from 
the  Galena,  after  a  time,  and  General  McClellan,  who  had 
ridden  down  to  the  pier,  was  taken  aboard.  He  looked  to 
be  very  hot  and  anxious,  and  while  he  remained  aboard  the 
vessel,  his  staff  dispersed  themselves  around  the  banks  and 


208  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   X  OX-COMB  AT  AXT. 

talked  over  the  issues  of  the  contest.  As  the  General  re- 
ceded from  the  strand,  every  sweep  of  the  long  oars  was 
responded  to  from  the  hoarse  cannon  of  the  battle-field,  and 
when  he  climbed  upon  deck,  the  steamer  moved  slowly  up 
the  narrow  channel,  and  the  signal-man  in  the  foretop  flour- 
ished his  crossed  flag  sturdily.  Directly,  the  Galena  opened 
fire  from  her  immense  pieces  of  ordnance,  and  the  roar  was 
so  great  that  the  explosions  of  field-guns  were  fairly 
drowned.  She  fired  altogether  by  the  direction  of  the  sig- 
nals, as  nothing  could  be  seen  of  the  battle-field  from  her 
decks.  I  ascertained  afterward  that  she  played  havoc 
with  our  own  columns  as  well  as  the  enemy's,  but  she 
brought  hope  to  the  one,  and  terror  to  the  other.  The  very 
name  of  gunboat  affrighted  the  Confederates,  and  they  were 
assured,  in  this  case,  that  the  retreating  invaders  had  at 
length  reached  a  haven.  The  Galena  kept  up  a  steady  fire 
till  nightfall,  and  the  Federals,  taking  courage,  drove  their 
adversaries  toward  Richmond,  at  eve.  Meanwhile  the 
Commanding  General's  escort  and  body-guard  had  encamped 
around  us,  and  during  the  night  the  teams  and  much  of  the 
field  cannon  fell  back.  I  obtained  shelter  and  meals  from 
Quartermaster  Le  Duke  of  Iowa,  whose  canvas  was  pitched 
a  mile  or  more  below,  and  as  I  tossed  through  the  watches 
I  heard  the  splashing  of  water  in  the  river  beneath,  where 
the  tired  soldiers  were  washing  away  the  powder  of  the 
battle. 

In  the  morning  I  retraced  to  head-quarters,  and  vainly 
endeavored  to  learn  something  as  to  the  means  of  going 
down  the  river.  Commanders  are  always  anxious  to  grant 
correspondents  passes  after  a  victory ;  but  they  wish  to 
defer  the  unwelcome  publication  of  a  defeat.  I  was  advised 
by  Quartermaster-General  Van  Vliet,  however,  to  proceed 
to  Harrison's  Bar,  and,  as  I  passed  thither,  the  last  day's 
encounters  —  those  of  " Malvern  Hills"  —  occurred.  The 
scenes  along  the  way  were  reiterations  of  terrors  already 
described,  —  creaking  ambulances,  staggering  foot  soldiers, 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  209 

profane  wagoners,  skulking  officers  and  privates,  officious 
Provost  guards,  defiles,  pools  and  steeps  packed  with  teams 
and  cannon,  wayside  hotises  beset  with  begging,  gossiping, 
or  malicious  soldiers,  and  wavy  fields  of  wheat  and  rye 
thrown  open  to  man  and  beast.  I  was  amused  at  one  point, 
to  see  some  soldiers  attack  a  beehive  that  they  might  seize 
the  honey.  But  the  insects  fastened  themselves  upon  some 
of  the  marauders,  and  after  indescribable  cursing  and  strug- 
gling, the  bright  nectar  and  comb  were  relinquished  by  the 
toilers,  and  the  ravishers  gorged  upon  sweetness. 

Harrison's  Bar  is  simply  along  wharf,  extending  into  the 
river,  close  by  the  famous  mansion,  where  William  Henry 
Harrison,  a  President  of  the  United  States,  was  born,  and 
where,  for  two  centuries,  the  scions  of  a  fine  old  Virginia 
family  have  made  their  homestead.  The  house  had  now 
become  a  hospital,  and  the  wounded  were  being  conveyed 
to  the  pier,  whence  they  were  delivered  over  to  some 
Sanitary  steamers,  for  passage  to  Northern  cities.  I  tied 
my  horse  to  the  spokes  of  a  wagon-wheel,  and  asked  a 
soldier  to  watch  him,  while  I  repaired  to  the  quayT  A  half 
drunken  officer  was  guarding  the  wharf  with  a  squad  of 
men,  and  he  denied  me  admittance,  at  first,  but  when  I  had 
said  something  in  adulation  of  his  regiment  —  a  trick  com- 
mon to  correspondents  —  he  passed  roe  readily.  The  ocean 
steamer  Daniel  Webster  was  about  being  cast  adrift  when  I 
stepped  on  board,  and  Colonel  Ingalls,  Quartermaster  in 
charge,  who  freely  gave  me  permission  to  take  passage  in 
her,  advised  me  not  to  risk  returning  to  shore.  So,  reluc- 
tantly, I  resigned  my  pony,  endeared  to  me  by  a  hundred 
adventures,  and  directly  I  was  floating  down  the  James, 
with  the  white  teams  and  the  tattered  groups  of  men,  re- 
ceding from  me,  and  each  moment  the  guns  of  Malvern 
Hills  growing  fainter.  Away  !  praised  be  a  merciful  God  ! 
away  from  the  accursed  din,  and  terror,  and  agony,  of  my 
second  campaign,  —  away  forever  from  the  Chickahominy. 

For  awhile  I  sat  meditatively  in  the  bow  of  the  boat,  full 
18* 


210  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    NOX-COMBATANT. 

of  strange  perplexities  and  thankfulness.  I  had  escaped 
the  bullet,  and  fever,  and  captivity,  and  a  great  success  in 
my  profession  was  about  to  be  accorded  to  me,  but  there 
was  much  work  yet  to  be  done.  The  rough  material  I  had 
for  a  grand  account  of  the  closing  of  the  campaign ;  but 
these  fragmentary  figures  and  notes  must  be  wrought  into 
narrative,  and  to  avail  myself  of  their  full  significance,  I 
must  lose  no  moment  of  application.  I  found  that  I  was 
one  of  four  correspondents  on  board,  and  we  resolved  to 
district  the  boat,  each  correspondent  taking  one  fourth  of 
the  names  of  the  sick  and  wounded.  The  spacious  saloons, 
the  clean  deck,  the  stairways,  the  gangways,  the  hold,  the 
halls,  —  all  were  filled  with  victims.  They  lay  in  rows  upon 
straw  beds,  they  limped  feverishly  here  and  there ;  some 
were  crazed  from  sunstroke,  or  gashes  ;  and  one  man  that  I 
remember  counted  the  rivets  in  the  boilers  over  the  whole 
hundred  miles  of  the  journey,  while  another,  —  a  teamster, 
—  whipped  and  cursed  his  horses  as  if  he  had  mistaken  the 
motion  of  the  boat  for  that  of  his  vehicle. 

The  Daniel  Webster  was  one  of  a  series  of  transports 
supplied  for  the  uses  of  the  wounded  by  a  national  commit- 
tee of  private  citizens.  Her  wood  work  was  shining  and 
glossy,  her  steel  shone  like  mirrors,  and  she  was  cool  as 
Paradise.  Out  of  the  smoke,  and  turmoil,  and  suffocation 
of  battle  these  wretched  men  had  emerged,  to  enjoy  the 
blessedness,  unappreciated  before,  of  shelter,  and  free  air 
and  cleanliness.  There  was  ice  in  abundance  on  board, 
and  savory  lemonade  lay  glassily  around  in  great  buckets. 
Women  flitted  from  group  to  group  with  jellies,  bonbons, 
cigars,  and  oranges,  and  the  grateful  eyes  of  the  prostrate 
people  might  have  melted  one  to  tears.  These  women  were 
enthusiasts  of  all  ages  and  degrees,  who  proffered  them- 
selves, at  the  beginning  of  the  war,  as  stewardesses  and 
nurses.  From  the  fact  that  some  of  them  were  of  mascu- 
line natures,  or,  in  the  vocabulary  of  the  times,  "  strong- 
minded,"  they  were  the  recipients  of  many  coarse  jests, 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  211 

and  imputations  were  made  upon  both  their  modesty  and 
their  virtue.  But  I  would  that  any  satirist  had  watched 
with  me  the  good  offices  of  these  Florence  Nightingales  of 
the  West,  as  they  tripped  upon  merciful  errands,  like  good 
angels,  and  left  paths  of  sunshine  behind  them.  The  sol- 
diers had  seen  none  of  their  countrywomen  for  months,  and 
they  followed  these  ambassadors  with  looks  half-idolatrous, 
half-downcast,  as  if  consciously  unworthy  of  so  tender  re- 
gard. 

"  If  I  could  jest  die,  now,"  said  one  of  the  poor  fellows 
to  me,  "  with  one  prayer  for  my  country,  and  one  for  that 
dear  young  lady  !  " 

There  was  one  of  these  daughters  of  the  good  Samaritan 
whose  face  was  so  full  of  coolness,  and  her  robes  so  airy, 
flowing,  and  graceful,  that  it  would  have  been  no  miracle 
had  she  transmuted  herself  to  something  divine.  She  was 
very  handsome,  and  her  features  bore  the  imprint  of  that 
high  enthusiasm  which  may  have  animated  the  maid  of  Arc. 
One  of  the  more  forward  of  the  correspondents  said  to  her, 
as  she  bore  soothing  delicacies  to  the  invalids,  that  he 
missed  the  satisfaction  of  being  wounded,  at  which  she 
presented  an  orange  and  a  cigar  to  each  of  us  in  turn. 
Among  the  females  on  board,  I  remarked  one,  very  large, 
angular,  and  sanguine,  who  sat  at  a  small  table,  dispensing 
luxuries  with  the  mariners  of  a  despot  and  the  charity  of  a 
child.  She  had  a  large  vessel  of  boiling  coffee,  from  which 
she  drew  spicy  quantities  at  intervals  ;  and  when  the  troops 
thronged  around  eagerly,  she  rebuked  the  more  forward, 
and  called  up  some  emaciated,  bashful  fellows,  giving  them 
the  preference.  Every  soldier  who  accepted  coffee  was 
obliged  to  take  a  religious  tract,  and  she  gave  them  away 
with  a  grim  satisfaction  that  was  infinitely  amusing  and  in- 
teresting. I  ventured  to  ask  this  imperative  person  for  a 
bottle  of  ink,  and  after  some  difficulty,  —  arising  out  of 
a  mistaken  notion  on  her  part  that  I  was  dangerously 
wounded,  —  she  vaulted  over  a  chair,  and  disappeared 


212  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NOX-CQMBATAXT. 

into  a  state-room.  When  she  returned,  her  arras  were 
filled  with  a  perfect  wilderness  of  stationery,  and  having 
supplied  each  of  us  in  turn,  she  addressed  herself  to  me  in 
the  following  sententious  manner  :  — 

"See  here!  You  reporter!  (There's  ink!)  I  want  to 
be  put  in  the  newspapers  !  Look  at  me  !  Now  !  Right 
straight !  (Pens  ?  )  Here  I  am  ;  thirteen  months  at  work  ; 
been  everywhere ;  done  good ;  country ;  church  ;  never 
noticed.  Never! — Now  I  I  want  to  be  put  in  newspa- 
pers." 

At  this  point  the  Imperatress  was  called  off  by  some  sol- 
diers, who  presumed  to  draw  coffee  without  her  consent. 
She  slapped  one  of  them  soundly,  and  at  once  overpowered 
him  with  kindnesses,  and  tracts  ;  then  she  returned  and 
gave  me  a  photograph,  representing  herself  with  a  basket 
of  fruit,  and  a  quantity  of  good  books.  I  took  note  of  her 
name,  but  unfortunately  lost  the  memorandum,  and  unless 
she  has  been  honored  by  some  more  careful  scribe,  I  fear 
that  her  labors  are  still  unrecognized. 

During  much  of  the  trip,  I  wrote  material  parts  of  my 
report,  copied  portions  of  my  lists,  and  managed  before 
dusk,  to  get  fairly  underway  with  my  narrative.  From  the 
deck  of  the  steamer  I  beheld  at  five  o'clock,  what  I  had 
long  wished  to  sec,  —  the  famous  island  of  Jamestown,  cele- 
brated in  the  early  annals  of  the  New  World,  as  the  home 
of  John  Smith,  and  of  Nathaniel  Bacon,  and  as  the  resort 
of  the  Indian  Princess,  Pocahontas.  A  single  fragment  of 
a  tower,  the  remnant  of  the  Colonial  church,  was  the 
only  ruin  that  I  could  see. 

At  seven  o'clock  we  dropped  anchor  in  Hampton  Roads, 
and  a  boat  let  down  from  the  davits.  Some  of  my  wily 
compeers  endeavored  to  fill  all  the  stern  seats,  that  I  might 
not  be  pulled  to  shore  ;  but  I  swung  down  by  a  rope,  and 
made  havoc  with  their  shins,  so  that  they  gained  nothing  ; 
the  surf  beat  so  vehemently  against  the  pier  at  Old  Point, 
that  we  were  compelled  to  beach  the  boat,  and  I  ran  rapidly 


CAMPAIGNS    OP    A^  NON-COMBATANT.  213 

through  the  ordnance  yard  to  the  "  Hygeia  House,"  where 
our  agent  boarded  ;  he  had  gone  into  the  Fortress  to  pass 
the  night,  and  when  I  attempted  to  follow  him  thither,  a 
knot  of  anxious  idlers,  who  knew  that  I  had  just  returned 
from  the  battle-fields,  attempted  to  detain  me  by  sheer  force. 
I  dashed  rapidly  up  the  plank  walk,  reached  the  portal,  and 
had  just  vaulted  into  the  area,  when  the  great  gates  swung 
to,  and  the  tattoo  beat ;  at  the  same  instant  the  sergeant 
of  guard  challenged  me  :  — 

"  Who  comes  there  ?  Stand  fast !  Guard  prime  !  " 
A  dozen  bright  musket-barrels  were  levelled  upon  me, 
and  I  heard  the  click  of  the  cocks  as  the  fingers  were  laid 
upon  the  triggers.  When  I  had  explained,  I  was  shown 
the  Commandant's  room,  and  hastening  in  that  direction, 
encountered  Major  Larrabee,  my  old  patron  of  the  fifth 
Wisconsin  regiment.  He  took  me  to  the  barracks,  where  a 
German  officer,  commanding  a  battery,  lodged,  and  the 
latter  accommodated  me  with  a  camp  bedstead.  Here  I 
related  the  incidents  of  the  engagements,  and  before  I  con- 
cluded, the  room  was  crowded  with  people.  I  think  that  I 
gave  a  sombre  narration,  and  the  hearts  of  those  who  heard 
me  were  cast  down.  Still,  they  lingered  ;  for  the  bloody 
story  possessed  a  hideous  fascination,  and  I  was  cross- 
examined  so  pertinaciously  that  my  host  finally  arose, 
protesting  that  I  needed  rest,  and  turned  the  party  out  of 
the  place.  The  old  fever-dreams  returned  to  me  that  night, 
and  my  brain  spun  round  for  hours  before  I  could  close  my 
eyes. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

ON  -FURLOUGH  AWHILE. 

COUNTER  wind?  and  tides  had  so  delayed  the  Adelaide,  on 
which  I  departed  for  New  York  with  my  despatches,  that 
it  became  a  doubtful  question  as  to  whether  we  could  make 
connection  with  the  early  train  for  New  York.  The  cap- 
tain shook  his  head  distrustfully  when  he  had  looked  at  his 
watch,  and  told  me  that  he  frequently  failed  to  land  his 
passengers  in  time.  The  bitterness  of  the  doubt  so  troubled 
me,  that  I  paced  the  decks,  looking  at  the  approaching 
city,  and  thinking  that  all  my  labor  was  to  be  disappointed 
in  the  end.  I  could  not  telegraph  my  narrative  and  lists, 
for  Government  controlled  the  wires;  and  moreover,  the 
Associated  Press  regulations  forbade  any  newspaper  to 
telegraph  exclusive  news  from  any  point  but  Washington. 
I  half  resolved  to  hire  a  special  locomotive,  but  it  was 
doubtful  that  the  railway  authorities  could  procure  one,  at 
so  short  notice.  Unless  I  overtook  the  eight  o'clock  A.  M. 
train,  I  could  not  get  to  New  York  before  two  o'clock  next 
morning,  —  too  late  for  the  press.  Besides,  how  did  I  know 
that  some  correspondent  had  not  reached  Washington,  by 
way  of  one  of  the  Potomac  vessels,  and  so  forestalled  me  ? 
Here  was  an  opportunity  to  be  the  first  of  all  our  corre- 
spondents to  publish  the  incidents  and  results  of  six  days' 
stupendous  warfare, — but  escaping  at  the  very  moment  of 
realization.  The  seconds  were  hours  as  we  swept  past 
Fort  Carroll,  rounded  Fort  McHenry,  and  swung  toward 
our  moorings,  under  Fort  Federal  Hill. 

(214) 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NON-COMBATANT.  215 

"  If  we  make  a  prompt  landing,"  said  the  Captain,  "you 
may  barely  get  the  train." 

1  stood  with  my  bundles  of  notes  upon  the  high  deck, 
and  signalled  a  cab-driver.  He  caught  the  precious  manu- 
script, and  bolted  for  his  cab.  In  another  second  he  was 
dashing  like  a  runaway  up  the  pier,  over  the  bridge,  through 
Pratt  Street,  and  —  out  of  sight.  Slowly  the  great  hulk 
turned  awkwardly  about ;  one  turn  of  her  paddles  brought 
us  close  enough  to  fling  a  rope,  a  second  drew  her  very 
near  the  shore  ;  the  distance  was  fearful,  but  I  braced  myself 
for  the  leap. 

"  Stand  clear !  "  I  called  to  the  score  of  hackmen. 

A  little  run,  a  spring, — and  I  fell  upon  my  feet,  rolled 
over  upon  my  face,  gathered  myself  to  the  arms  of  all  the 
Jehus,  and  was  carried  ofi'  bodily  by  a  man  with  a  great 
knob  on  his  forehead  as  big  as  the  end  of  his  whip-handle. 

"G'lang!  Who-o-o-oh  !  Swis-s-s  !  " 

1  think  that  I  promised  that  man  everything  under  the 
sun  to  catch  the  train.  I  recollect  that  the  knob  on  his 
forehead  grew  black  and  bulging  as  he  lashed  his  horse.  I 
found  myself  standing  up  in  the  cab,  screaming  like  the 
driver.  We  were  both  insane,  and  the  horse  must  have 
been  of  the  breed  of  Pegasus,  for  I  could  feel  the  vehicle 
gyrating  in  the  air.  Now  we  turned  a  lamp-post,  and  the 
glass  splintered  somewhere  ;  a  dog  howled  as  we  drove  over 
his  appendage  ;  a  woman  with  a  baby  gave  a  short  scream 
and  disappeared  into  the  earth ;  a  policeman  gave  chase, 
but  we  laughed  him  to  scorn. 

Huzza !  Here  we  are  I  The  train  stands  puffing  at  the 
long  platform.  "Your  bundle,  yer  honor!  Wasn't  I  the 
boy  to  make  the  keers  ? "  "  Didn't  I  projuce  yer  honor  in 
good  time,  sur  ?  "  I  only  know  that  I  flung  a  greenback  to 
the  two,  —  that  I  vainly  besought  the  ticket  agent  to  give 
me  no  change,  but  consign  it  to  the  first  engineer  who 
iailed  to  make  time,  — that  I  wrote  on  the  back  of  ray  hat 
for  four  hours,  —  that  I  devoured  a  chicken  and  as  many 


216  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NOX-COAIBATANT. 

eggs  as  she  had  laid  in  a  lifetime,  at  Havre  de  Grace,  — 
that  I  leaped  upon  the  platform  at  Broad  and  Prime  streets, 
Philadelphia,  at  noon,  —  that  I  plunged  into  a  cab,  and 
said,  significantly  — 

"  New  York  Ferry  I  " 

It  chafed  me  to  pass  through  the  promenade  street  of  my 
home-city,  without  a  moment  to  spare  for  my  family  or 
friends.  The  cab-horse  slipped  in  Chestnut  Street,  and  I 
went  over  the  rest  of  the  route  on  foot,  at  a  dog-trot  pace, 
passing  in  various  quarters  for  a  sportsman,  a  professional 
runner,  ^,nd  a  lunatic.  I  was  greatly  aggravated  between 
Amboy  and  Camden,  by  persons  making  inquiries  for 
brothers,  sons,  and  acquaintances.  At  last,  when  I  attained 
the  steamer,  the  Captain  kindly  shut  me  up  in  his  office,  and 
I  went  on  with  my  narrative  till  my  eyes  were  burning  and 
my  hands  failed  in  their  function.  Kill  von  Kull  and  its 
picturesque  shores  went  by ;  we  emerged  into  the  beautiful 
bay,  and  winding  among  its  buoys,  harbor  lights,  and  ship- 
ping, came  to,  at  length,  at  the  foot  of  Christopher  Street. 
I  repaired  to  the  office  at  once,  and  wrote  far  into  the  night, 
refraining,  finally,  from  sheer  blindness  and  exhaustion,  and 
dropped  asleep  in  the  carriage  as  I  was  taken  toward  the 
Metropolitan  Hotel. 

The  next  day  was  Friday,  July  4,  the  anniversary  of 
American  Independence,  and  my  version  of  the  six-days' 
battles  caused  universal  gloom  and  grief.  I  had  furnished 
five  pages  or  forty  columns  of  closely  printed  matter,  and 
thousands  of  tremulous  fingers  were  tracing  out  the  names  of 
their  dead  dear  ones,  while  I  sipped  my  wine  and  rehearsed 
for  the  hundredth  time,  the  incidents  of  the  retreat  to  a 
multitude  of  men.  Cards  and  letters  came  to  me  by  the 
gross,  from  bereaved  countrymen,  and  I  was  obliged,  final- 
ly, to  add  a  postscript  to  my  account,  and  a  protest  that  I 
knew  no  more,  and  could  answer  no  interrogatories.  A  bath, 
fresh  clothing,  and  rich  food  so  far  improved  my  appearance 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  217 

in  a  few  days,  that  I  presented  no  other  traces  of  sickness 
and  travel  than  a  sunburnt  face,  and  a  rheumatic  walk. 

With  restoration  came  a  revival  of  old  desires,  appetites, 
and  attachments.  It  required  one  additional  campaign  to 
sober  me  in  these  respects,  and  I  was  not  a  little  relieved, 
to  receive  an  order  on  the  fourth  day,  to  proceed  to  Wash- 
ington, and  attach  myself  to  the  "  Army  of  Virginia  "  at  the 
head  of  which  Major-General  John  Pope  had  just  been 
placed.  After  two  quieter  days'  enjoyment,  in  the  Quaker 
City,  I  reported  myself  at  the  Capital,  but  was  debarred 
from  taking  the  field  at  oncb,  owing  to  the  tardiness  of  the 
new  Commander.  For  two  weeks  or  more,  I  loitered  around 
Washington,  and  although  the  time  passed  monotonously, 
I  saw  many  persons  and  events  which  have  much  to  do 
with  the  history  of  the  Eebellion.  The  story  of  "Wash- 
ington During  the  War  "  has  yet  to  be  written  in  all  its 
vividness  of  enterprise,  devotion,  and  infamy.  It  has  been, 
in  periods  of  peace,  a  dull,  dolorous  town,  of  mammoth 
hotels,  paltry  dwellings,  empty  lots,  prodigiously "  wide 
avenues,  a  fossil  population,  and  a  series  of  gigantic  public 
buildings,  which  seemed  dropped  by  accident  into  a  fifth- 
rate  backwoods  settlement.  During  the  sessions  Washing- 
ton was  overrun  with  "  Smartness  "  :  Smart  pages,  smart 
messengers,  smart  cabmen,  smart  publicans,  smart  politi- 
cians, smart  women,  smart  scoundrels  !  Greatness  became 
commonplace  here,  and  Mr.  Douglas  might  drink  at  Wil- 
lard's  Bar,  with  none  so  poor  to  do  him  reverence,  or  Gen- 
eral Winfield  Scott  strut  like  a  colossus  along  "the  Ave- 
nue/' and  the  sleepy  negroes  upon  their  hacks  would  give 
him  the  attention  of  only  one  eye.  It  was  interesting,  to 
notice  how  rapidly  provincial  eminence  lost  caste  here. 
Slipkins,  Who  was  "Honorable"  at  home,  and  of  whom  his 
county  newspaper  said  that  "  this  distinguished  fellow  citi- 
zen of  ours  will  be  "heard  from,  among  the  greatest  of  the 
free," — Slipkins  moved  to  and  fro  unnoticed,  and  voted 
19 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A  NON-COMBATANT. 

with  his  party,  and  drank  much  brandy  and  water,  and  left 
no  other  record  at  the  Capital  than  some  unpaid  bills,  and 
perhaps  an  unacknowledged  heir.  A  gaping  rustic  and 
his  new  bride,  or  a  strolling  foreigner,  marvelling  and 
making  notes  at  every  turn,  might  be  observed  in  the 
Patent  Office  examining  General  Washington's  breeches, 
but  these  were  at  once  called  "  grcenies,"  and  people  put 
out  their  tongues  and  winked  at  them.  The  Secretaries' 
ladies  gave  parties  now  arid  then,  attended  by  the  folks 
who  sold  them  horses,  or  carpets,  or  wines ;  the  President 
gave  a  "  levee,"  whereat  a  wonderfully  Democratic  horde 
gathered  to  pinch  his  hands  and  ogle  his  lady  ;  the  Marine 
band  (in  red  coats),  played  twice  a  week  in  the  Capital 
grounds,  and  Senators,  Cyprians,  Ethiops,  and  children 
rallied  to  enjoy ;  a  theatre  or  two  played  time-honored 
dramas  with  Thespian  companies ;  a  'couple  of  scholars 
lectured  in  the  sombre  Smithsonian  Institution  ;  an  intrigue 
and  a  duel  filled  some  most  doleful  hiatus  ;  and  a  clerk 
absco'nded  with  half  a  million,  or  an  Indian  agent  robbed 
the  red  men  and  fell  back  to  the  protection  of  his  "  party." 
A  very  dismal,  a  very  dirty,  and  a  very  Democratic  settle- 
ment was  the  American  Capital,  till  the  war  came. 

Even  the  war  lost  half  its  interest  in  Washington.  A 
regiment  marching  down  Broadway  was  something  to  see, 
but  the  same  regiment  in  Pennsylvania  Avenue  looked 
mean  and  matter-of-fact.  A  General  in  the  field,  or  riding 
uncovered  through  Boston  or  Baltimore,  or  even  lounging 
at  the  bar  of  the  Continental  or  the  Astor  House  or  the 
Tremont,  was  invested  with  an  atmosphere  half  heroic,  half 
poetic  ;  but  Generals  in  Washington  may  be  counted  by 
pairs,  and  I  used  to  sit  at  dinner  with  eight  or  a  dozen  of 
them  in  my  eye.  There  was  the  new  Commandcr-in-Chief, 
Halleck,  a  short,  countryfied  person,  whose  blue  coat  was 
either  threadbare  or  dusty,  or  lacked  some  buttons,  and  who 
picked  his  teeth  walking  up  and  down  the  halls  at  Willard's, 
and  argued  through  a  white,  bilious  eye  and  a  huge  mouth. 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  219 

There  was  General  Mitchel,  also,  who  has  since  passed 
away,  —  a  little,  knotty  gentleman,  with  stiff,  gray,  Jack- 
sonian  hair.  And  General  Sturgis  passed  in  and  out 
perpetually,  with  impressive,  individual  Banks,  or  some  less 
prominent  person,  all  of  them  wearing  the  gold  star  upon 
their  shoulders,  and  absolute  masters  of  some  thousands  of 
souls.  The  town,  in  fact,  was  overrun  with  troops. 
Slovenly  guards  were  planted  on  horseback  at  crossings, 
and  now  and  then  they  dashed,  as  out  of  a  profound  sleep, 
to  chase  some  galloping  cavalier.  Gin  and  Jews  swarmed 
along  the  Avenue,  and  I  have  seen  gangs  of  soldiers  of 
rival  regiments,  but  oftener  of  rival  nationalities,  pummelling 
each  other  in  the  highways,  until  they  were  marched  off  by 
the  Provosts.  The  number  of  houses  of  ill-fame  was  very 
great,  and  I  have  been  told  that  Generals  and  Lieutenants 
of  the  same  organization  often  encountered  and  recognized 
each  other  in  them.  Contractors  and  "jobbers  "  used  to 
besiege  the  offices  oft  the  Secretaries  of  War  and  Navy,  and 
the  venerable  Welles  (who  reminded  me  of  Abraham  in  the 
lithographs),  and  the  barnacled  Stanton,  seldom  appeared  in 
public.  Simple-minded,  straightforward  A.  Lincoln,  and  his 
ambitious,  clever  lady,  were  often  seen  of  afternoons  in  their 
barouche ;  the  little  old-fashioned  Vice-President  walked 
unconcernedly  up  and  down  ;  and  when  some  of  the  Rich- 
mond captives  came  home  to  the  Capital,  immense  meetings 
were  held,  where  patriotism  bawled  itself  hoarse.  A  dining 
hour  at  Willard's  was  often  wondrously  adapted  for  a  his- 
toric picture,  when  accoutred  officers,  and  their  beautiful 
wives,  —  or  otherwise",  —  sat  at  the  table  d'-hote,  and  sump- 
tuous dishes  flitted  here  and  there,  while  corks  popped  like 
so  many  Chinese  crackers,  and  champagne  bubbled  up  like 
blood.  At  Anight,  the  Provost  Guard  enacted  the  farce  of 
corning  by  deputations  to  each  public  bar,  which  was  at 
once  closed,  but  reopened  five  minutes  afterward.  Con- 
gress water  was  in  great  demand  for  weak  heads  of  morn- 
ings, and  many  a  young  lad,  girt  up  for  war,  wasted  his 


220  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT. 

strength  in  dissipation  here,  so  that  he  was  worthless  afield, 
and  perhaps  died  in  the  hospital.  The  curse  of  civil  war 
was  apparent  everywhere.  One  had  but  to  turn  his  eye 
from  the  bare  Heights  of  Arlington,  where  the  soldiers  of 
the  Republic  lay  demoralized,  to  the  fattening  vultures  who 
smoked  and  swore  at  the  National,  to  see  the  true  cause  of 
the  North's  shortcomings,  —  its  inherent  and  almost  univer- 
sal corruption.  Human  nature  was  here  so  depraved,  that 
man  lost  faith  in  his  kind.  Death  lurked  behind  ambuscades 
and  fortifications  over  the  river,  but  Sin,  its  mother, 
coquetted  here,  and  as  an  American,  I  often  went  to  bed, 
loathing  the  Capital,  as  but  little  better  than  Sodom,  though 
its  danger  had  called  forth  thousands  of  great  hearts  to 
throb  out,  in  its  defence.  For  every  stone  in  the  Capitol 
building,  a  man  has  laid  down  his  life.  For  every  ripple  on 
the  Potomac,  some  equivalent  of  blood  has  been  shed. 

I  lodged  for  some  time  in  Tenth  Street,  and  took  my  meals 
at  Willard's.  The  legitimate  expenses  of  living  in  this 
manner  were  fourteen  dollars  a  week  ;  but  one  could  board 
at  Kirkwood's  or  Brown's  for  seven  or  eight  dollars,  very 
handsomely.  A  favorite  place  of  excursion,  near  the  city, 
was  "  Crystal  Spring,"  where  some  afternoon  .orgies  were 
enacted,  which  should  have  made  the  sun  go  into  eclipse. 
I  repaired  once  to  Mount  Vcrnon,  and  looked  dolorously 
at  the  tomb  of  the  Pater  Patris,  and  once  to  Annapolis,  on 
the  Chesapeake,  which  the  war  has  elevated  into  a  fine  naval 
station. 

At  length  Pope's  forces  were  being  massed  along  the  line 
of  the  Rappahannock,  below  the  Occoquan  river,  and  upon 
the  "Piedmont"  highlands.  "Piedmont"  is  the  name 
applied  to  the  fine  table-lands  of  Northern  Virginia,  and  the 
ensuing  campaign  has  received  the  designation  of  the 
"  Piedmont  Campaign."  Pope's  army  proper  was  composed 
of  three  corps,  commanded  respectively  by  Generals  Iryin 
McDowell,  Franz  Siegel,  and  Nathaniel  P.  Banks.  But  a 
portion  of  General  McClellan's  peninsular  army  had  mean- 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  221 

time  returned  to  the  Potomac,  and  the  corps  of  General 
Burnside  was  stationed  at  Fredericksburg,  thirty  miles  or 
more  below  Pope's  head-quarters  at  Warrenton. 

I  presented  myself  to  General  Pope  on  the  12th  of  July, 
at  noon.  His  Washington  quarters  consisted  of  a  quiet 
brick  house,  convenient  to  the  War  office,  and  the  only 
tokens  of  its  importance  were  some  guards  at  the  threshold, 
and  a  number  of  officers'  horses,  saddled  in  the  shade  of 
some  trees  at  the  curb.  The  lower  floor  of  the  dwelling 
was  appropriated  to  quartermasters'  and  inspectors'  clerks, 
before  whom  a  number  of  people  were  constantly  present- 
ing themselves,  with  applications  for  passes  ;  —  sutlers,  in 
great  quantities,  idlers,  relic-hunters,  and  adventurers  in 
still  greater  ratio,  and,  last  of  all,  citizens  of  Virginia, 
solicitous  to  return  to  their  farms  and  families.  The  mass 
of  these  were  rebuffed,  as  Pope  had  inaugurated  his  cam- 
paign with  a  show  of  severity,  even  threatening  to  drive  all 
the  non-combatants  out  of  his  lines,  unless  they  took  the 
Federal  oath  of  allegiance.  He  gave  me  a  pass  willingly, 
and  chatted  pleasantly  for  a  time.  In  person  he  was  dark, 
martial,  and  handsome,  — inclined  to  obesity,  richly  garbe'd 
in  civil  cloth,  and  possessing  a  fiery  black  eye,  with  luxuri- 
ant beard  and  hair.  He  smoked  incessantly,  and  talked 
imprudently.  Had  he  commenced  his  career  more  modestly, 
his  final  discomfiture  would  not  have  been  so  galling  ;  but 
his  vanity  was  apparent  to  the  most  shallow  observer,  and 
although  he  was  brave,  clever,  and  educated,  he  inspired 
distrust  by  his  much  promising  and  general  love  of  gossip 
and  story-telling.  He  had  all  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  garrulity 
(which  I  suspect  to  be  the  cause  of  their  affinity),  and 
none  of  that  good  old  man's  unassuming  common  sense. 

The  next  morning,  at  seven  o'clock,  I  embarked  for  Alex- 
andria, and  passed  the  better  half  of  the  forenoon  in 
negotiating  for  a  pony.  At  eleven  o'clock,  I  took  my  seat 
in  a  bare,  filthy  car,  and  was  soon  whirled  due  southward, 
over  the  line  of  the  Orange  and  Alexandria  railroad.  The 
10* 


222  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    XOX-COMBATANT. 

country  between  Alexandria  and  Warrenton  Junction,  or, 
indeed,  between  Washington  and  Richmond,  was  not 
unlike  those  masterly  descriptions  of  Gibbon,  detailing  the 
regions  overrun  by  Hyder  Ali.  The  towns  stood  like  ruins 
in  a  vast  desert,  and  one  might  write  musing  epitaphs  at 
every  wind-beaten  dwelling,  whence  the  wretched  denizens 
had  fled  in  cold  and  poverty  to  a  doubtful  hospitality  in  the 
far  South.  Fences  there  were  none,  nor  any  living  animals 
save  the  braying  hybrids  which  limped  across  the  naked 
plains  to  eke  out  existence  upon  some  secluded  patches  of 
grass.  These  had  been  discharged  from  the  army,  and  they 
added  rather  than  detracted  from  the  lonesomeness  of  the 
wild.  Their  great  mournful  eyes  and  shaggy  heads  glared 
from  copses,  and  in  places  where  they  had  lain  down 
beside  the  track  to  expire.  If  we  sometimes  pity  these 
dumb  beasts  as  they  drag  loaded  wains,  or  heavy  omni- 
buses, or  sub-soil  ploughs,  we  may  also  bestow  a  tender 
sentiment  upon  the  army  mules.  Flogged  by  teamsters, 
cursed  by  quartermasters,  ridiculed  by  roaring  regiments 
of  soldiers,  strained  and  spavined  by  fearful  draughts, 
stalled  in  bogs  and  fainting  upon  hillsides,  —  their  bones 
will  evidence  the  sites  of  armies,  when  the  skeletons  of  men 
have  crumbled  and  become  reabsorbed.  I  have  seen  them 
die  like  martyrs,  when  the  inquisitor,  with  his  bloody  lash, 
stood  over  them  in  the  closing  pangs,  and  their  last  tremu- 
lous howl  has  almost  moved  to  tears.  Some  of  the  dwell- 
ings seemed  to  be  occupied,  but  the  tidiness  of  old  times 
was  gone.  The  women  seemed  sunburnt  and  hardened  by 
toil.  They  looked  from  their  thresholds  upon  the  flying 
train,  with  their  hair  unbraided  and  their  garters  ungyved, 
—  not  a  negro  left  to  till  the  fields,  nor  a  son  or  brother 
who  had  not  travelled  to  the  wars.  They  must  be  now 
hewers  of  wood,  and  drawers  of  water,  and  the  fingers 
whereon  diamonds  used  to  sparkle,  must  clench  the  axe  and 
the  hoe. 

At  last  we  came  to  Bull  Run,  the  dark  and  bloody  ground 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  223 

whore  the  first  grand  armies  fought  and  fled,  and  again  to 
be  consecrated  by  a  baptism  of  fire.  The  railway  crossed 
the  gorge  upon  a  tall  trestle  bridge,  and  for  some  distance 
the  track  followed  the  windings  of  the  stream.  A  black, 
deep,  turgid  current,  flowing  between  gaunt  hills,  lined  with 
cedar  andy  beech,  crossed  here  and  there  by  a  ford,  and  van- 
ishing, above  and  below,  in  the  windings  of  wood  and  rock  ; 
while  directly  beyond,  lie  the  wide  plains  of  Manassas 
Junction,  stretching  in  the  far  horizon,  to  the  undulating 
boundary  of  the  Blue  Ridge.  As  the  Junction  remains  to- 
day, the  reader  must  imagine  this  splendid  prospect,  un- 
broken by  fences,  dwellings,  or  fields,  as  if  intended  prime- 
vally  to  be  a  place  for  the  shock  of  columns,  with  redoubts 
to  the  left  and  right,  and  fragments  of  stockades,  dry  rifle 
pits,  unfinished  or  fallen  breastworks,  and,  close  in  the  fore- 
ground, a  medley  of  log  huts  for  the  winter  quartering  of 
troops.  The  woods  to  the  north  mark  the  course  of  Bull 
Run  ;  a  line  of  telegraph  poles  going  westward  points  to 
Manassas  Gap  ;  while  the  Junction  proper  is  simply  a  point 
where  two  single  track  railways  unite,  and  a  few  frame 
"shanties  "  or  sheds  stand  contiguous.  These  are,  for  ex- 
ample, the  "  New  York  Head-quarters,"  kept  by  a  person 
with  a  hooked  nose,  who  trades  in  cakes,  lemonade,  and 
(probably)  whiskey,  of  the  brand  called  "rotgut;"  or  the 
"  Union  Stores,"  where  a  person  in  semi-military  dress 
deals  in  India-rubber  overcoats,  underclothing,  and  boots. 
As  the  train  halts,  lads  and  negroes  propose  to  sell  sand- 
wiches to  passengers,  and  soldiers  ride  up  to  take  mail-bags 
and  bundles  for  imperceptible  camps.  In  the  distance  some 
teams  are  seen,  and  a  solitary  horseman,  visiting  vestiges 
of  the  battle  ;  sidelings  beside  the  track  are  packed  with 
freight  cars,  and  a  small  mountain  of  pork  barrels  towers 
near  by  ;  there  are  blackened  remains  of  locomotives  a  little 
way  oiF,  but  these  have  perhaps  hauled  regiments  of  Con- 
federates to  the  Junction  ;  and  over  all — men,  idlers,  ruins, 
railway,  huts,  entrenchments  —  floats  the  star-spangled 
banner  from  the  roof  of  a  plank  depot. 


224  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   XOX-COMBATANT. 

The  people  in  the  train  were  rollicking  and  well-disposed, 
and  black  bottles  circulated  freely.  I  was  invited  to  drink 
by  many  persons,  but  the  beverage  proffered  was  intoler- 
ably bad,  and  several  convivials  became  stupidly  drunk.  A 
woman  in  search  of  her  husband  was  one  of  the  passengers, 
and  those  contiguous  to  her  were  as  gentlemanly  as  they 
knew  how  to  be.  "  A  pretty  woman,  in  war-time,"  said 
a  Captain,  aside,  to  me,  "is  not  to  be  sneezed  at."  At 
"  Catlett's,"  a  station  near  Warrenton  Junction,  we  nar- 
rowly escaped  a  collision  -with  a  train  behind,  and  the  occu- 
pants of  our  train,  women  included,  leaped  down  an  embank- 
ment with  marvellous  agility.  Here  we  switched  off  to  the 
right,  and  at  four  o'clock  dismounted  at  the  pleasant  vil- 
lage of  Warrenton. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

CAMPAIGNING  WITH  GENERAL  POPE. 

THE  court-house  village  of  Fauquier  County  contained  a 
popxilation  of  twelve  or  fifteen  hundred  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  war.  Its  people  embraced  the  i  evolutionary 
cause  at  the  outstart,  and  furnished  some  companies  of  foot 
to  the  Confederate  service,  as  well  as  a  mounted  company 
known  as  the  "  Black  Horse  Cavalry."  The  guns  of  Bull 
Run  were  heard  here  on  the  day  of  battle,  and  hundreds  of 
the  wounded  came  into  town  at  nightfall.  Thenceforward 
Warrenton  became  prominently  identified  with  the  struggle," 
and  the  churches  and  public  buildings  were  transmuted  to 
hospitals.  After  the  Confederates  retired  from  Manassas 
Junction,  the  vicinity  of  Warrenton  was  a  sort  of  neutral 
ground.  At  one  time  the  Southern  cavalry  would  ride 
through  the  main  street,  and  next  day  a  body  of  mounted 
Federals  would  pounce  upon  the  town,  the  inhabitants, 
meanwhile,  being  apprehensive  of  a  sabre  combat  in  the 
heart  of  the  place.  Some  people  were  ruined  by  the  war  ; 
some  made  fortunes.  The  Mayor  of  the  village  was  named 
Bragg,  and  he  was  a  trader  in  horses,  as  well  as  a  wagon- 
builder.  There  were  two  taverns,  denominated  respec- 
tively, the  "  Warrenton  Inn,"  and  the  "  Warren  Green 
Hotel."  I  obtained  a  room  at  the  former.  A  young  man 
named  Dashiell  kept  it.  He  was  a  fair-complexioned, 
clever,  high-strung  Virginian,  and  managed  to  obtain  a 
great  deal  of  paper  money  from  both  republics.  It  is  uu 

(225) 


226  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A  NON-COMBATANT. 

encomium  in  America,  to  say  that  a  man  "  Can  keep  a 
hotel,"  but  what  shall  be  said  of  the  man  who  can  keep  a 
hotel  in  war-time  ?  I  observed  young-  Dashiell's  movements 
from  day  to  day,  and  I  am  satisfied  that  his  popularity  arose 
from  his  fairness  and  frankness.  He  charged  nine  dollars 
a  week  for  room,  and  "board,"  of  three  meals,  but  could, 
with  difficulty,  obtain  meat  and  vegetables  for  the  table. 
His  mother  and  his  brother-in-law  lived  in  the  house.  The 
latter  was  a  son  of  Mayor  Bragg,  and  had  been  twice  in 
the  Confederate  service.  He  was  engaged  both  at  Bull 
Run  and  at  Fairfax  Court  House,  and  made  no  secret  of  his 
activity  at  either  place.  But  he  was  treated  considerately, 
though  he  vaunted  intolerably.  The  "  Inn  "  was  a  frame 
dwelling,  with  a  first  floor  of  stone,  surrounded  by  a  double 
portico.  The  first  room  (entering  from  the  street)  was  the 
office,  consisting  of  a  bare  floor,  some  creaking  benches, 
some  chairs  with  whittled  and  broken  arms,  a  high  desk, 
where  accounts  were  kept,  a  row  of  bells,  numbered,  com- 
municating with  the  rooms.  Hand-bills  were  pinned  to  the 
walls,  announcing  that  William  Higgiris  was  paying  good 
prices  for  "likely"  field  hands,  that  Timothy  Ingersoll's 
stock  of  dry  goods  was  the  finest  in  Piedmont,  that  James 
Mason's  mulatto  woman,  u.amed  Rachel,  had  decamped  on 
the  night  of  Whitsuntide,  and  that  one  hundred  dollars 
would  be  paid  by  the  subscriber  for  her  return.  Most  of 
these  bills  were  out  of  date,  but  some  recent  ones  were  ex- 
hibited to  me  calling  for  volunteers,  labelled,  "  Ho  !  for 
winter-quarters  in  Washington  ;  "  "  Sons  of  the  South 
arise  !  "  —  "  Liberty,  glory,  and  no  Yankeedom  !  "  A  bell- 
cord  hung  against  the  "  office  "  door,  communicating  with 
the  stables,  where  a  deaf  hostler  might  not  be  rung  up.  In 
the  back  yard,  suspended  from  a  beam,  and  upright,  hung  a 
large  bell,  which  called  the  boarders  to  meals.  It  com- 
monly rung  thrice,  and  I  was  told  on  inquiry,  by  the  cook  — 
"De  fust  bell,  sah,  is  to  prepah  to  prepah  for  de  table  ; 
dat  bell,  when  de  fust  cook  don't  miss  it,  is  rung  one  hour 


CAMPAIGNS -OF   A   NON-COMB  AT  AXT.  227 

befo'  mealtime.  De  second  bell,  sail,  is  to  prepah  for  de 
table  ;  de  last  bell,  to  come  to  de  table." 

I  should  have  been  better  pleased  with  the  ceremony,  if 
the  food  had  been  more  cleanly,  more  wholesome,  and  more 
abundant.  We  used  to  clear  the  plates  in  a  twinkling,  and 
if  a  person  asked  twice  for  beef,  or  butter,  he  was  stared  at 
by  the  negroes,  as  if  he  had  eaten  an  entire  cow.  I  soon 
brought  the  head-waiter  to  terms  by  promising  him  a  dollar 
a  week  for  extra  attendance,  and  could  even  get  ice  after  a 
time,  which  was  a  luxury.  There  was  a  bar  upon  the 
premises,  which  opened  stealthily,  when  there  were  liquors 
to  be  sold.  .Cider  (called  champaigne)  could  bo  purchased 
for  three  dollars  a  bottle,  and  whiskey  came  to  hand  occa- 
sionally. There  were  cigars  in  abundance,  and  I  used  to 
sit  on  the  upper  porch  of  evenings,  puffing  long  after  mid- 
night, and  watching  the  sentinels  below. 

There  was  some  female  society  in  Warrenton,  but  the 
blue-coats  engrossed  it  all.  The  young  women  were  ardent 
partisans,  but  also  very  pretty ;  and  treason,  somehow, 
heightened  their  beauty.  Disloyalty  is  always  pardonable 
in  a  woman,  and  these  ladies  appreciated  the  fact.  They 
refused  to  walk  under  Federal  flags,  and  stopped  their  ears 
when  the  bands  played  national  music  ;  but  every  evening 
they  walked  through  the  main  street,  arm  in  arm  with  dash- 
ing Lieutenants  and  Captains.  Many  flirtations  ensued, 
and  a  great  deal  of  gossip  was  elicited.  In  the  end,  some 
of  the  misses  fell  out  among  themselves,  arid  hated  each 
other  more  than  the  common  enemy.  I  overheard  a  young 
Indy  talking  in  a  low  tone  one  evening,  to  a  Captain  in  the 
Ninth  New  York  regiment. 

"If  you  knew  my  brother,"  she  said,  "I  am  sure  you 
would  not  fire  upon  him," 

As  there  were  plain,  square,  prim  porches  to  all  the 
dwellings,  the  ladies  commonly  took  positions  therein  of 
evenings,  and  a  grand  promenade  commenced  of  all  the 
young  Federals  in  the  town.  The  streets  were  pleasantly 


228  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT. 

shaded,  and  a  leafy  coolness  pervaded  the  days,  though 
sometimes,  of  afternoons,  the  still  heat  was  almost  stifling. 
A  jaunt  after  supper  often  took  me  far  into  the  country,  and 
the  starlights  were  softer  than  one's  peaceful  thoughts.  To 
be  a  civilian  was  a  distinguished  honor  now,  and  I  enjoyed 
the  staring  of  the  citizens,  who  pondered  as  to  my  purposes 
and  pursuits,  as  only  villagers  can  do.  There  is  a  quiet 
pleasure  in  being  a  strange  person  in  a  country  town,  and 
so  far  from  objecting  to  the  inquisitiveness  of  the  folk,  I 
rather  like  it.  One  may  be  passing  for  a  young  duke,  or 
tourist,  or  clergyman,  or  what  not  ? 

The  Ninth  New  York  (militia)  regiment  guarded  Warren- 
ton,  and  it  was  composed  of  clever,  polite  young  fellows, 
who  had  taken  to  volunteering  before  there  was  any 
promise  of  war,  and  who  turned  out,  pluckily,  when  the 
strife  began.  Perhaps  public  sentiment  or  pride  of  organi- 
zation influenced  them.  They  were  all  good-looking  and 
tidy,  and  their  dress-parades,  held  in  the  main  street,  were 
handsome  affairs.  I  have  never  seen  better  disciplined 
columns,  and  the  youthful  faces  of  the  soldiers,  with  the 
staid  locality  of  the  exhibition,  —  young  women,  negroes, 
dogs  and  babies,  and  old  men  looking  on,  —  seemed  to  con- 
tradict the  bloody  mission  of^  the  troops.  The  old  men, 
referred  to,  were  villagers  of  such  long  standing  that  had 
the  Court  of  Saint  James,  or  the  Vatican,  or  the  battle  of 
Waterloo  been  moved  into  their  country,  they  would  have 
still  been  villagers  to  the  last.  They  met  beside  the  Warren- 
ton  Inn,  under  the  shade  of  the  trees,  at  eleven  o'clock 
every  morning,  and  borrowed  the  New  York  papers  of  the 
latest  date.  One .  individual,  slightly  bald,  would  read 
aloud,  and  the  rest  crouched  or  stood  about  him,  making 
grunts  and  remarks  at  intervals.  They  did  not  wish  to 
believe  the  Federal  reports,  but  they  must  needs  read,  and 
as  most  of  them  had  sons  in  the  other  army,  their  pulses 
were  constantly  tremulous  with  anxiety.  I  think  that 
Pope's  resolve  to  transport  these  harmless  old  people  beyond 
his  lines  was  very  barbarous,  and  the  soldiers  denounced  it 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  229 

in  similar  terms.  They  spoke  of  Pope,  as  of  some  terrible 
despot,  and  wished  to  know  when  he  was  coming  to  town, 
as  they  had  appointed  a  committee,  and  drafted  a  petition, 
asking  his  forbearance  and  charity.  When  these  villagers 
found  me  oat  to  be  a  Newspaper  Correspondent,  they 
regarded  me  with  amusing  interest,  and  marvelled  what  I 
would  say  of  their  town.  A  villager  is  very  sensitive  as  to 

his  place  of  residence,  and  these  good  people  read  the 

daily,  confounding  me  with  all  the  paper,  —  editorial,  cor- 
respondence, and,  I  verily  believe,  advertisements.  One  of 
them  wished  me  to  board  at  his  residence,  and  I  was,  after 
a  time,  invited  out  to  dinner  and  tea  frequently. 

The  negroes  remained  in  Warrenton,  in  great  numbers, 
and  held  carnival  of  evenings  when  the  bands  played. 
"  Contrabands  "  were  coming  daily  into  town,  and  idleness 
and  vice  soon  characterized  the  mass  of  them.  They  were 
ignorant,  degraded,  animal  beings,  and  many  of  them  loved 
rum  ;  it  was  the  last  link  that  bound  them  to  human  kind. 
Servants  could  be  hired  for  four  dollars  a  month  and 
"  keep  ; ;;  but  they  were  "  shiftless  "  and  unprofitable.  The 
Provost-Marshal  of  the  place  was  a  Captain  Hendrickson. 
His  quarters  were  in  the  Court  House  building,  and  he  kept 
a  zealous  eye  upon  sutlers  and  citizens.  The  former  tres- 
passed in  the  sales  of  liquors  to  soldiers,  and  the  latter 
were  accused  of  maintaining  a  contraband  mail,  and  of  con- 
spiring to  commit  divers  offences.  There  were  a  number  of 
churches  in  the  village,  all  of  which  served  as  hospitals, 
and  in  the  quiet  cemetery  west  of  the  town,  two  hundred  slain 
soldiers  were  interred.  A  stake  of  white  pine  was  driven 
at  the  head  of  each  grave.  Here  lay  some  of  the  men  who 
had  helped  to  change  the  destinies  of  a  continent.  No 
public  worship  was  held  in  -the  place.  The  Sundays  were 
busy  as  other  days  :  trains  came  and  went,  teams  made 
dust  in  the  streets,  cavalry  passed  through  the  village, 
music  arose  from  all  the  outlying  camps  ;  parades  and  in- 
spections were  made,  and  all  the  preparations  for  killing 
20 


230  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

men  were  relentlessly  forwarded.  A  pleasant  entertain- 
ment occurred  one  evening,  when  a  plot  of  ground  adjoin- 
ing the  Warreuton  Inn,  was  appropriated  for  a  camp 
theatre.  Candle  footlights  were  arranged,  and  the  vStage 
was  canopied  with  national  flags.  The  citizens  congre- 
gated, and  the  performers  deferred  to  their  prejudices  by 
singing  no  Federal  songs.  The  negroes  climbed  the  trees 
to  listen,  and  their  gratified  guffaws  made  the  night  quiver. 
The  war  lost  half  its  bitterness  at  such  times  ;  but  I  thought 
with  a  shudder  of  Stuart's  thundering  horsemen,  charging 
into  the  village,  and  closing  the  night's  mimicry  with  a  hor- 
rible tragedy. 

Some  of  the  dwellings  about  the  place  were  elegant  and 
spacious,  but  many  of  these  were  closed  and  the  owners 
removed.  Two  newspapers  had  been  published  here  of  old, 
and  while  ransacking  the  office  of  one  of  them,  I  discovered 
that  the  type  had  been  buried  under  the  floor.  The  planks  were 
speedily  torn  away,  and  the  cases  dragged  to  light.  I  ob- 
tained some  curious  relics,  in  the  shape  of  "  cuts  "  of  recruit- 
ing officers,  runaway  negroes,  etc.,  as  well  as  a  column  of  a 
leader,  in  type,  describing  the  first  battle  of  Bull  Run.  For 
two  weeks  I  had  little  to  do,  as  the  campaign  had  not  yet 
fairly  commenced,  and  I  passed  many  hours  every  day  read- 
ing. A  young  lawyer,  in  the  Confederate  service,  had  left 
an  ample  library  behind  him,  and  the  books  passed  into  the 
hands  of  every  invader  in  the  town. 

Pope  finally  arrived  at  Warrenton,  and  as  the  troops 
seemed  to  be  rapidly  concentrating,  I  judged  it  expedient  to 
procure  a  horse  at  once,  and  canvassed  the  country  with 
that  object.  By  paying  a  quartermaster  the  Government 
price  ($130),  I  could  select  a  steed  from  the  pound,  but  in- 
spection satisfied  me  that  a  good  saddle  nag  could  not  be 
obtained  in  this  way.  After  much  parleying  with  Hebrews 
and  chaffing  with  country  people,  I  heard  that  Mayor 
Bragg  kept  some  fair  animals,  and  when  I  stated  my  pur- 
pose at  his  house,  he  commenced  the  business  after  a  fash- 
ion immemorial  at  the  South,  by  producing  some  whiskey. 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NON-COMBATANT.  231 

When  Mayor  Bragg  had  asked  me  pertinently,  if  I  knew 
much  about  the  "  pints  of  a  hoss,"  and  what  "  figger  in  the 
way  of  price  "  would  suit  me,  he  told  an  erudite  negro 
named  "  Jeems  "  to  trot  out  the  black  colt.  The  black 
colt  made  his  appearance  by  vaulting  over  a  gate,  and  play- 
fully shivering  a  panel  offence  with  his  "  off"  hoof.  Then 
he  executed  a  flourish  with  his  tail,  leaped  thrice  in  the  air, 
and  bit  savagely  at  the  man  "  Jeems." 

When  I  asked  Mayor  Bragg  if  the  black  colt  was  suffi- 
ciently gentle  to  stand  fire,  he  replied  that  he  was  gentle  as 
a  lamb  and  offered  to  put  me  astride  him.  I  had  no  sooner 
taken  my  seat,  however,  than  the  black  colt  backed, 
neighed-  flourished,  and  stood  erect,  and  finally  ran  away. 

A  second  animal  was  produced,  less  mettlesome,  but  also 
black,  finety  strung,  daintily  hoofed,  and  as  Mayor  Bragg 
said,  "just  turned  four  year."  The  price  of  this  charger 
was  one  hundred  and  ninety  dollars  ;  but  in  consideration 
of  my  youth  and  pursuit,  Mayor  Bragg  proposed  to  take 
one  hundred  and  seventy-five  ;  we  compromised  upon  a 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  Major  Bragg  throwing  in  a  halter, 
and  by  good  luck  I  procured  a  saddle  the  same  evening,  so 
that  I  rode  triumphantly  through  the  streets  of  Warren- 
ton,  and  fancied  that  all  the  citizens  were  admiring  my  new 
purchase. 

I  was  struck  with  the  fact,  that  Mayor  Bragg,  though  an 
ardent  patriot,  would  accept  of  neither  Confederate  nor  Vir- 
ginia money  ;  he  required  payment  for  his  animal,  in  Father 
Chase's  "  greenbacks." 

Mounted  anew,  I  fell  into  my  former  active  habits,  ami 
made  two  journeys,  to  Sperryville  and  Little  Washington, 
in  one  direction,  to  Madison  in  another  ;  each  place  was 
probably  twenty  miles  distant ;  the  latter  was  merely  a  cav- 
alry outpost,  where  Generals  Hatch  and  Bayard  were  sta- 
tioned, and  the  former  villages  were  the  head-quarters, 
respectively,  of  General  Banks  and  General  Siegel. 

Madison  was,  at  this  time,  a  precarious  place  for  a  long 
tarrying.  I  went  to  sleep  in  the  inn  on  the  night  of  my 


232  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

arrival,  and  at  that  time  the  place  was  thronged  with  cav- 
alry and  artillery-men.  Next  morning,  when  I  aroused,  not 
a  blue-coat  could  be  seen.  They  had  fallen  back  in  the 
darkness,  and  prudently  abstaining  from  breakfast,  I  gal- 
loped northward,  as  if  the  whole  Confederate  army  was  at 
my  heels.  These  old  turnpike  roads  were  now  marked  by 
daily  chases  and  rencontres.  A  few  Virginians,  fleetly 
mounted,  would  provoke  pursuit  from  a  squad  of  Federals, 
and  the  latter  would  be  led  into  ambuscades.  A  quaint  in- 
cident happened  in  this  manner,  near  Madison. 

Captain  T.  was  chasing  a  party  of  Confederates  one  after- 
noon, when  his  company  was  suddenly  fired  upon  from  a 
wheatficld,  parties  rising  up  on  both  sides  of  the  rtfad,  and 
discharging  carbines  through  the  fence  rails.  Three  or  four 
men,  and  as  many  horses  were  slain  ;  but  the  ambushing 
body  was  outnumbered,  and  several  of  its  members  killed. 
Among  others,  a  young  lieutenant  took  deliberate  aim  at 
Captain  T.  at  the  distance  of  twelve  yards  ;  and,  see- 
ing that  he  had  missed,  threw  up  his  carbine  to  surrender. 
The  Captain  had  already  drawn  his  revolver,  and,  amazed 
at  the  murderous  purpose,  he  shot  the  assassin  in  the 
head,  killing  him  instantly.  Nobody  blamed  Captain 
T.,  but  he  was  said  to  be  a  humane  person,  and  the  affair 
preyed  so  continually  upon  his  mind,  that  he  committed  sui- 
cide one  night  in  camp. 

At  Sperryville  I  saw  and  talked  with  Franz  Siegel,  the 
idol  of  the  German  Americans.  He  had  been  a  lieutenant 
in  his  native  country,  but  subsided,  in  St.  Louis,  to  the  rank 
of  publican,  keeping  a  beer  saloon.  When  the  war  com- 
menced, he  was  appointed  to  a  colonelcy,  in  deference  to 
the  large  German  republican  population  of  Missouri.  His 
abilities  were  speedily  manifested  in  a  series  of  engage- 
ments which  redeemed  the  Southern  border,  and  he  finally 
fought  the  terrible  battle  of  Pea  Ridge,  Arkansas,  which 
broke  the  spirit  of  the  Confederates  west  of  the  Missis- 
sippi. The  man  who  fought  "  mit  Siegel  "  in  those  days, 
was  always  told  in  St.  Louis  :  "  Py  tarn  !  you  pays  not'ing 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  233 

for  your  lager."  Siegel  now  commanded  one  of  Pope's 
corps.  He  was  a  diminutive  person,  but  well-knit,  emaci- 
ated by  his  active  career,  feverish  and  sanguine  of  face, 
and,  as  it  appeared  to  me,  consuming  with  energy  and  am- 
bition. As  a  General  he  was  prompt  to  decide  and  do,  and 
his  manner  of  dealing  with  Confederate  property  was  se- 
verer than  that  of  any  American.  He  battered  the  splendid 
mansion  hotel  of  White  Sulphur  Springs  to  the  ground,  for 
example,  when  somebody  discharged  a  rifle  from  its  window. 
,  He  preferred  to  fight  by  retreating,  and  if  pursued,  gener- 
ally unmasked  his  guns  and  made  massacre  with  the  scat- 
tered opponents.  Another  German  commander  was  Blen- 
ker,  whose  corps  of  Germans  might  have  belonged  to  the 
free  bands  of  the  Black  forest.  They  were  the  most  law- 
less men  in  the  Federal  service,  and  what  they  did  not 
steal  they  destroyed.  Such  volunteers  were  mercenaries, 
in  every  sense  of  the  word.  I  have  been  told  that  they 
slaughtered  sheep  and  cattle  in  pure  wantonness,  and  the 
rats  of  Ehrenfels  did  not  make  a  cleaner  sweep  of  provis- 
ions. "  The  Germans,  as  a  rule,  lacked  the  dash  of  the  Irish 
troops  and  the  tact  of  the  Americans.  They  thought  and 
fought  in  masses,  had  little  individuality,  and  were  thick- 
skulled  ;  but  they  were  persevering  and  had  their  hearts  in 
the  cause. 

General  Banks  was  a  fine  representative  of  the  higher 
order  of  Yankee.  Originally  a  machinist  in  a  small  manu- 
facturing town  near  Boston,  he  educated  himself,  and  was 
elected  successively  Legislator,  Governor,  Congressman, 
and  General  of  volunteers.  His  personal  graces  were 
equalled  by  his  energy,  and  his  ability  was  considerable, 
lie  has  been  very  successful  in  the  field,  and  has  conducted 
a  retreat  unparalleled  in  the  war ;  these  things  bei^g  always 
reckoned  among  American  successes.  The  country  here- 
about was  mountainous,  healthy,  and  well  adapted  for  cam- 
paigning. Streams  and  springs  were  numerous,  and  there 
were  fine  sites  for  camps.  The  deserted  toll-houses  along 
20* 


234  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT. 

the  way  glowered  mournfully  through  the  rent  windows, 
and  I  fancied  them,  sometimes,  as  I  rode  at  night,  haunted 
by  the  shambling  tollman. 

Ancient  road  that  wind'st  deserted, 

Through  the  level  of  the  vale,  — 
Sweeping  toward  the  crowded  market, 

Like  a  stream  without  a  sail, 

Standing  by  thee,  I  look  backward, 

And,  as  in  the  light  of  dreams, 
See  the  years  descend  and  vanish, 

Like  thy  tented  wains  and  teams.  —  T.  B.  READ. 

To  provide  myself  with  thorough  equipment  for  Pope's 
campaign,  I  returned  to  Washington,  and  purchased  a 
patent  camp-bed,  which  strapped  to  my  saddle,  saddle  bags 
of  large  capacity,  India-rubber  blankets,  and  a  full  suit  of 
waterproof  cloth, — hait,  coat,  genoullieres,  and  gauntlets. 
I  had  my  horse  newly  shod,  I  drew  upon  my  establishment 
for  an  ample  sum  of  money,  and,  to  properly  inaugurate  the 
campaign,  I  gave  an  entertainment  in  the  parlor  of  the 
inn. 

Pipes,  cold  ham,  a  keg  of  beer,  and  a  demijohn  of  whis- 
key comprised  the  attractions  of  the  night.  The  guests 
were  three  Captains,  two  Adjutants,  two  Majors,  a  Colonel, 
four  Correspondents,  several  Lieutenants,  and  a  signal  offi- 
cer. There  was  some  jesting,  and  much  laughing,  consider- 
able story-telling,  and  (toward  the  small  hours)  a  great  deal 
of  singing.  Much  heroism  was  evolved  ;  all  the  guests 
were  devoted  to  death  and  their  country ;  and  there  was 
one  person  who  took  off  his  coat  to  fight  an  imaginary 
something,  but  changed  his  mind,  and  dropped  asleep  di- 
rectly. At  length,  a  gallant  Captain,  to  demonstrate  his 
warlike  propensities,  fired  a  pistol  through  the  front  win- 
dow ;  and  somebody  blowing  out  the  candles,  the  whole 
party  retired  to  rest  upon  the  floor.  In  this  delightful  way 
iny  third  campaign  commenced,'  and  next  evening  I  set  off 
for  the  advance. 


CHAPTER 


ARMY   MORALS. 

SOME  of  General  McDowell's  aides  had  invited  me  to  pass 
a  night  with  them  at  Warrenton  Springs.  Fully  equipped, 
I  joined  Captain  Ball,  of  Cincinnati,  and  we  rode  southward, 
over  a  hard,  picturesque  turnpike,  under  a  clear  moonlight. 
The  distance  was  seven  miles,  and  a  part  of  this  route  was 
enlivened  by  the  fires,  halloos,  and  the  music  of  camps.- 
Volunteers  are  fond  of  serenading  their  officers  ;  and  this 
particular  evening  was  the  occasion  of  much  merry-making, 
since  a  majority  of  the  brass  bands  were  to  be  mustered  out 
of  the  service  to-morrow.  We  could  hear  the  roll  of  drums 
from  imperceptible  localities,  and  the  sharp  winding  of 
bugles  broke  upon  the  silence  like  the  trumpet  of  the  Arch- 
angel. Stalwart  shapes  of  horsemen  galloped  past  us,  and 
their  ho.ofs  made  monotone  behind,  till  the  cadence  died  so 
gradually,  away  that  we  did  not  know  when  the  sound 
ceased  and  when  the  silence  began.  The  streams  had  a 
talk  to  themselves,  as  they  strolled  away  into  the  meadow, 
and  an  owl  or  two  challenged  us,  calling  up  a  corporal 
hawk.  This  latter  fellow  bantered  and  blustered,  and 
finally  we  fell  into  an  ambush  of  wild  pigs,  which  charged 
across  the  road  and  plunged  into  the  woods.  There  were 
despatch  stations  at  intervals,  where  horses  stood  saddled, 
arid  the  couriers  waited  for  hoof-beats,  to  be  ready  to  ride 
fleetly  toward  head-quarters.  Anon,  we  saw  wizard  lights, 
as  of  Arctic  skies,  where  remote  camps  built  conflagration  ; 

(235) 


230  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NON-CO  JIB  AT  ANT. 

and  trudging  wearily  down  the  stony  road,  poor  ragged, 
flying  negroes,  with  their  families  and  their  worldly  all, 
came  and  went —  God  help  them  !  —  and  touched  their  hats 
so  obsequiously  that  my  heart  was  wrung,  and  I  felt  a 
nervous  impulse  to  put  them  upon  my  steed  and  take  their 
burdens  upon  my  back.  Little  sable  folk,  asleep  and  ahun- 
gered,  drawn  to  that  barefoot  woman's  breast ;  and  the 
tired  boy,  weeping  as  he  held  to  his  father's  hand  ;  and  the 
father  with  the  sweat  of  fatigue  and  doubt  upon  his  fore- 
head, —  children  of  Ishmael  all ;  war  raging  in  the  land,  but 
God  overhead  !  These  are  the  "wandering  Jews"  of  our 
day,  hated  North  and  South,  because  they  are  poor  and 
blind,  and  do  no  harm  ;  but  out  of  their  wrongs  has  arisen 
the  abasement  of  their  wrongers.  Is  there  nothing  over 
all? 

We  entered  the  beautiful  lawn  of  the  Springs'  hotel,  at 
ten  o'clock,  and  a  negro  came  up  to  take  our  horses.  By 
the  lamplight  and  moonlight  I  saw  McDowell's  tent,  a 
sentry  pacing  up  and  down  before  it,  and  the  thick,  power- 
ful figure  of  the  General  seated  at  a  writing-table  within. 
Irvin  McDowell  was  one  of  the  oldest  officers  in  the  service, 
and  when  the  war  commenced  he  became  a  leading  com- 
mander in  the  Eastern  army.  At  Bull  Run  he  had  a 
responsible  place,  and  the  ill  success  of  that  battle  brought 
him  into  unpleasant  notoriety.  Though  he  retained  a  lead- 
ing position  he  was  still  mistrusted  and  disliked.  None 
bore  ingratitude  so  stolidly.  He  may  have  flinched,  but  he 
never  replied ;  and  though  ambitious,  he  tried  to  content 
himself  with  subordinate  commands.  Some  called  him  a 
traitor,  others  an  incompetent,  others  a  plotter.  If  McClel- 
lan  failed,  McDowell  was  cursed.  If  Pope  blundered, 
McDowell  received  half  the  contumely.  But  ho  loosened 
no  cord  of  discipline  to  make  good  will.  Implacable,  duti- 
ful, soldierly,  rigorous  in  discipline,  sententious,  brave,  — 
the  most  unpopuja/  man  in  America  went  on  his  way,  and 
I  think  that  he  ia  recovering  public  favor  again.  The  Gen- 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  237 

eral  of  a  republic  has  a  thorny  path  to  tread,  and  almost 
every  public  man  has  been  at  one  time  disgraced  during  the 
civil  war.  McDowell,  I  think,  has  been  treated  worse  than 
any  other. 

Our  nags  being  removed,  we  repaired  to  one  of  the  rustic 
cottages  which  bounded  the  lawn,  and  I  was  introduced  to 
several  members  of  the  staff;  among  others,  to  a  Count 
Saint  Alb,  an  Austrian.  He  had  been  an  officer  in  his 
native  country  ;  but  came  to  America,  anxious  for  active 
service,  and  was  appointed  to  Gen.  McDowell's  Staff  with 
the  rank  of  Captain.  I  understood  that  he  was  writing  a 
book  upon  America.  There  are  many  such  adventurers  in 
the  Federal  service,  but  the  present  one  was  clever  and 
amusing,  and  he  spoke  English  fluently. 

Our  tea  was  plain  but  abundant,  consisting  of  broiled 
beef,  fresh  bread,  butter,  and  cheese  ;  and  the  inveterate 
whiskey  was  produced  afterward,  when  we  assembled  on 
the  piazza,  so  that  the  hours  passed  by  pleasantly,  if  not 
profitably,  and  we  retired  at  two  o'clock. 

In  the  morning  I  bathed  in  the  clear,  cold  sulphur  spring, 
where  thousands  of  invalid  people  had  come  for  healing 
waters.  A  canopy  covered  the  spring,  and  a  soldier  stood 
on  guard  at  the  top  of  the  descending  steps,  to  preserve  the 
property  in  its  original  cleanliness.  This  was  one  of  the 
most  famous  medical  springs  on  the  American  continent ; 
the  water  was  so  densely  impregnated  that  its  peculiarly 
offensive  smell  could  be  detected  at  the  distance  of  a  mile. 
The  place  was  going  to  ruin  now.  All  the  bathing-rooms 
were  .falling  apart,  the  pipes  had  been  carried  off  to  be 
moulded  into  bullets,  and  the  great  hotel  was  desolate.  I 
walked  into  the  ball-room  ;  but  the  large  gilded  mirrors  had 
been  splintered,  and  lewd  writings  defaced  the  wall.  Some 
idlers  were  asleep  upon  the  piazzas,  and  the  furniture  was 
removed  or  broken.  Some  rustic  cottages  dotted  the  lawn, 
but  these  were  now  inhabited  by  officers  and  their  servants. 
A  few  days  were  to  finish  the  work  of  rapine,  and  a  heap 


238  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    KOX-COMUATANT. 

of  ashes  was  to  mark  the  scene  of  tournameut,  coquetry, 
and  betrothal.  I  witnessed  a  review  of  troops  in  a  field 
contiguous,  at  nine  o'clock.  The  heat  was  so  intense  that 
many  men  fell  out  of  line  and  were  carried  off  to  their 
camps.  McDowell  passed  exactingly  from  man  to  man, 
examined  nuiskets,  clothing1,  and  knapsacks,  and  the  inspec- 
tion was  proceeding1,  when  I  bade  my  friends  good  by  arid 
set  out  for  Culpepper. 

I  crossed  the  North  Kappahannock,  or  Hedgemain  river, 
upon  a  precarious  bridge  of  planks.  A  new  bridge  for 
artillery  was  being  constructed  close  by ;  for  the  river 
beneath  had  a  swift,  deep  current,  and  could  with  difficulty 
be  forded.  Patches  of  wagons,  squads  of  horse,  and  now 
and  then  a  regiment  of  infantry,  varied  the  monotony  of  the 
journey.  The  country  was  high,  woody,  and  sparsely 
settled.  At  noon  I  overtook  Tower's  brigade,  and  observ- 
ing the  94th  N.  Y.  Kegiment  resting  in  the  woods,  I  dis- 
mounted and  made  the  acquaintance  of  its  Colonel.  He  was 
at  this  juncture  greatly  enraged  with  some  of  his  soldiers 
who  had  been  plucking  green  apples. 

"  Boy,"  he  said  to  one,  "  put  down  that  fruit !  Drop  it, 
or  I'll  blow  your  head  off  I  Directly  you'll  double  up, 
pucker,  and  say  that  you  have  the  "  di-o-ree,"  and  require 
an  ambulance.  Orderly  !  " 

A  sergeant  came  up  and  touched  his  cap. 

"  Take  your  musket,"  said  the  Colonel ;  "  go  out  to  that 
orchard,  and  order  those  men  away.  If  they  hesitate  or 
object,  shoot  them  !  " 

A  few  such  colonels  would  marvellously  improve  the 
volunteer  organization. 

The  Hazel  or  North  Anne  river,  a  branch  of  the  Hedge- 
main,  interposed  a  few  miles  further  on,  and  passing  through 
a  covered  bridge,  I  turned  down  the  north  bank,  crossed 
some  spongy  fields,  and  at  length  came  to  a  dry  place  in 
the  edge  of  a  woods,  where  I  tied  my  nag,  spread  out  my 
bed,  and  prepared  to  dine.  A  box  of  sardines,  a  lemon,  and 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   XON-COAIIJATAXT.  239 

some  fresh  sandwiches  constituted  the  repast,  and  being1 
dusty  and  parched  I  stripped  afterward  and  swam  across 
the  river.  Seeing  that  my  horse  plunged  and  neighed,  with 
swollen  eyeballs,  and  every  evidence  of  terror,  I  hastened 
toward  him  and  discovered  a  black  snake,  six  feet  or  more 
in  length,  which  seemed  about  to  coil  itself  around  the  nag's 
leg.  The  size  and  contiguity  of  the  reptile  at  first  appalled 
me,  and  my  mind  was  not  more  composed  when  the  serpent, 
at  my  approach,  manifested  an.  inclination  to  assume  the 
offensive.  Its  folds  were  thicker  than  my  arm,  and  it  com- 
menced to  revolve  rapidly,  at  length  running  up  a  sapling, 
suspending  itself  by  the  tail,  and  hissing  vehemently.  It 
belonged  to  the  family  of  "racers,"  and  was  hideous  and 
powerful  beyond  any  specimen  that  I  had  seen.  I  blew  it 
into  halves  at  the  second  discharge  of  my  pistol,  and  at 
once  resumed  my  saddle,  indisposed  to  remain  longer  amidst 
such  acquaintances. 

At  four  o'clock  I  saw  Culpepper,  a  trim  little  village, 
lying  in  the  hollow  of  several  hills.  A  couple  of  steeples 
added  to  its  picturesqueness,  and  a  swift  creek,  crossed  by 
a  small  bridge,  interposed  between  myself  and  the  main  part 
of  the  place.  It  looked  like  Sunday  when  I  rode  through 
the  principal  street.  The  shutters  were  closed  in  the  shop 
windows,  the  dwellings  seemed  tenantless,  no  citizens  were 
abroad,  no  sutlers  had  invaded  the  country ;  only  a  few 
cavalry-men  clustered  about  an  ancient  pump  to  water  their 
nags,  and  some  military  idlers  were  sitting  upon  the  long 
porch  of  a  public  house,  called  the  Virginia  Hotel.  I  tied 
my  horse  to  a  tree,  the  bole  of  which  had  been  gnawed  bare, 
and  found  the  landlord  to  be  an  old  gentleman  named  Paine, 
who  appeared  to  be  somewhat  out  of  his  head.  Two  days 
before  the  Confederate  cavalry  had  vacated  the  village,  and 
the  army  had  been  encamped  about  the  town  for  many 
months.  A  sabre  conflict  had  taken  place  -in  the  streets  : 
and  these  events,  happening  in  rapid  succession,  combined 
with  the  insolence  of  some  Federal  outriders,  had  so  agitated 


240  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

the  host  that  his  memory  was  quite  gone,  and  he  could  not 
perform  even  the  slightest  function.  There  is  a  panacea  for 
all  these  things,  which  the  faculty  and  philanthropy  alike 
forbid,  but  which  my  experience  in  war-matters  has  invari- 
ably found  unfailing.  I  produced  my  flask,  and  gently 
insinuated  it  to  the  old  gentleman's  lips.  He  possessed 
instinct  sufficient  to  uncork  and  apply  it,  and  the  results 
were  directly  apparent,  in  a  partial  recovery  of  memory. 
He  said  that  meals  were  one  dollar  each,  board  four  dollars 
a  day,  or  by  the  week  twenty-five  dollars.  These  terms 
are  unknown  in  America ;  but  when  Mr.  Paine  added  that 
horse  provender  was  one  dollar  per  "feed,"  I  looked  aghast, 
and  required  some  stimulant  myself  to  appreciate  the 
enormity  of  the  reckoning.  I  discovered,  however,  that  the 
people  of  the  village  were  almost  starving  ;  that  beef  had 
been  fifty  cents  a  pound  during  the  whole  winter,  flour 
twenty-five  dollars  per  barrel,  coffee  one  dollar  and  a  quar- 
ter a  pound,  and  corn  one  dollar  per  bushel.  The  army  had 
swept  the  country  like  famine,  and  the  citizens  had  pinched, 
pining  faces,  with  little  to  eat  to-day  and  nothing  for  to- 
morrow. 

I  acquiesced  in  the  charge,  as  no  choice  remained,  and 
asked  to  be  shown  to  my  room.  A  burly  negro,  apparently 
suffering  delirium  tremens,  seized  my  baggage  with  quaking 
hands,  and  lifting  a  pair  of  red  eyes  upon  me,  shuffled 
through  a  bare  hall,  up  a  stairway,  and  into  a  bedroom.  I 
never  saw  a  more  hideous  being  in  my  life,  and  when  he  had 
flung  my  luggage  upon  the  floor,  he  sank  into  a  chair,  and 
glared  wofully  into  my  face,  breathing  like  one  about  to  ex- 
pire. 

"  Young  Moss/'  said  he,  "  cant  you  give  a  po'  soul  a 
drop  o'  sperits  ?  Do  for  de  good  Lord's  sake  !  Do,  Moss, 
fo'  de  po'  nigga's  life.  Do  !  do  !  Moss." 

I  poured  him  out  a  little  in  a  tumbler,  less  from  charity 
than  from  fear  ;  for  he  knew  that  I  was  provided  with  a 
bottle,  and  I  seemed  to  read  murder  in  his  eyes. 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT.  241 

He  drank  like  one  athirst  and  scant  of  breath,  making  a 
dry,  cliackling  noise  with  his  throat.  When  he  had  fin- 
ished, he  leaned  his  powerful  neck  and  head  upon  the  bed 
and  groaned  terribly. 

"  Moss,"   he   said   again,    "  ain't  you  got  no   tobacco, 
Moss  ?     I  haint  had  none  since  Christmas.     I's  mos  dead 
I'm  po'  sinful  nigga'.     Do  give  some  tobacco  to  po'  crea- 
ture, do  !  " 

I  told  him  that  I  did  not  chew  the  weed,  but  gave  him  a 
crushed  cigar,  and  he  thrust  it  into  his  mouth,  as  if  it  was 
food  and  he  was  perishing.  This  wretched  animal  per- 
formed the  duties  of  a  chambermaid  upon  the  premises  ;  he 
made  the  beds,  attended  to  the  toilets,  answered  the  bells, 
etc.  He  finally  became  so  offensive  that  I  forbade  him  my 
room,  and  he  revenged  himself  by  paltry  thefts.  There 
were  two  other  servants,  a  woman  with  a  baby,  and  a 
shrewd,  dishonest  mulatto  man,  who  was  the  steward  and 
carver.  This  fellow  secreted  provender  in  the  kitchen  and 
sold  it  stealthily  to  hungry  soldiers.  A  public  house  so 
mismanaged  I  had  nowhere  met.  Sometimes  we  could  get 
no  breakfast  till  noon,  and  finally  the  price  of  dinner  went 
up  to  one  dollar  and  a  half,  with  nothing  to  eat.  The  table 
was  protected  from  flies  by  a  series  of  paper  fans,  pendant 
from  the  ceiling  and  connected  by  a  cord,  which  an  ebony 
boy  pulled,  at  the  foot  of  the  room  to  keep  them  in  motion. 
This  boy  being  worked  day  and  night,  often  fell  asleep 
upon  his  stool,  when  the  yellow  man  boxed  his  ears,  or 
knocked  him  down  ;  and  then  he  would  fan  with  such  vigor 
that  a  perfect  gale  swept  down  the  table.  The  landlord 
was  a  kindly  old  man,  but  he  could  not  "  keep  a  hotel," 
and  the  strong-minded  part  of  the  house  consisted  of  his 
wife  and  four  daughters.  Gen.  Ben  Butler  would  have  sent 
these  young  women  to  Ship  Island,  five  times  of  a  day. 
They  were  very  bad-mannered  and  always'sat  apart  at  one  end 
of  the  cloth,  talking  against  the  "  Yankees."  As  there  was 
no  direct  provocation  to  do  so,  this  boldness  was  gratuitous, 
21 


242  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

and  detracted  rather  than  added  to  my  estimate  of  the  hero- 
ism of  Southern  women.  I  have  known  them  to  burst  into 
the  office,  crowded  with  blue-coats,  and  scream  — 

"  Pop,  Yankees  thieving  in  garden  I  "  or,  "  Pop,  drive 
these  Yankees  out  of  parlor !  " 

Every  afternoon  when  the  pavement  was  unusually  patron- 
ized by  young  officers,  these  women  would  sally  out,  prom- 
enade in  crinoline,  silk  stockings,  and  saucy  hoods,  and  the 
crowd  would  fall  respectfully  back  to  let  them  pass.  A 
flag  hung  from  a  hospital  over  the  sidewalk,  and  with  a 
pert  flourish,  the  landlord's  daughters  filed  off  the  pave- 
ment, around  the  ensign,  and  back  again.  This  was  amus- 
ing, I  thought,  but  not  very  clever,  and  rather  immodest. 
Had  they  been  handsome,  some  romance  might  have  at- 
tached to  the  act ;  but  being  homely  and  not  marriageable, 
I  smiled  at  the  occurrence  and  entered  it  in  my  diary  as 
"  patriotism  run  mad."  The  stable  arrangements  were,  if 
possible,  worse.  One  had  to  be  certain,  from  actual  pres- 
ence, that  his  horse  was  fed  at  all,  and  during  the  first  three 
days  of  my  tenure,  the  black  hostler  lost  me  a  breast  strap, 
a  halter,  a  crupper  strap,  and  finally  emptied  my  saddle- 
bags. 

Now  and  then  a  woman  made  her  appearance  at  a  front 
window,  stealthily  peeping  into  the  street,  or  a  neighboring 
farmer  ventured  into'  town  upon  a  lean  consumptive  mule. 
The  very  dogs  were  skinny  and  savage  for  want  of  suste- 
nance, and  when  a  long,  cadaverous  hog  emerged  from  no- 
where one  day,  and  tottered  up  the  main  street,  he  was 
chased,  killed,  and  quartered  so  rapidly,  that  the  famous 
steam  process  seemed  to  have  been  applied  to  him,  of  being 
dropped  into  a  hopper,  and  tumbling  out,  a  medley  of  hams, 
ribs,  lard,  and  penknives.  The  stock  of  provisions  at  the 
hotel  finally  gave  out,  and  I  was  compelled  to  purchase 
morsels  of  meat  from  the  steward.  Dreadful  visions  of  fam- 
ishing ensued,  but  ultimately  the  railway  was  opened  to 
town,  and  a  sutler  started  a  shop  in  the  village.  I  lived 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  243 

upon  sardines  and  crackers  for  two  days,  and  a  Major  Fi- 
field,  Superintendent  of  Military  Railroads,  gave  me  savory 
breakfasts  of  ham  afterward.  Troops  were  now  concentrat- 
ing in  the  neighborhood  of  Culpepper,  and  a  bevy  of  camps 
encircled  the  little  village.  Crawford's  Brigade,  of  Banks's 
Corps,  garrisoned  the  place,  and  a  Provost  Marshal  occu- 
pied the  quaint  Court  House.  Reconnoissances  were  made 
southward  daily,  and  I  joined  one  of  these,  which  left  the 
village  on  the  second  of  August,  at  three  o'clock,  for 
Orange  Court  House,  seventeen  miles  on  the  way  to  Rich- 
mond. Detachments  of  a  Vermont  and  a  New  York  cav- 
alry regiment  composed  the  reconnoitring  party,  and  the 
whole  was  commanded  by  Gen.  Crawford,  a  clever  and  un- 
ostentatious soldier.  We  bivouacked  th'at  night  near  Rac- 
coon Ford,  on  the  river  Rapidan.  No  fires  were  built ;  for 
we  knew  that  the  enemy  was  all  around  us,  and  we  slept 
coldly  and  imperfectly  till  the  gray  of  Sunday  morning.  At 
daylight  we  galloped  into  the  main  street  of  Orange  Court 
House,  having  first  sent  a  squadron  around  the  village,  to 
ride  in  at  the  other  end.  At  the  very  moment  of  our  entry, 
a  company  or  more  of  Confederate  horse  was  also-trotting 
into  town.  Both  parties  sounded  the  charge  simultane- 
ously, and  the  carbines  exploded  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
village.  For  a  minute  or  more  a  sabre  fight  ensued,  alter- 
nated by  the  firing  of  revolvers ;  but  the  defenders  were 
overmatched,  and  several  of  them  having  been  slain,  they 
turned  to  escape.  At  that  moment,  however,  our  other 
squadron  charged  upon  them,  effectually  blocking  up  the 
street,  and  the  whole  party  surrendered.  A  major,  who  ex- 
hibited some  obstinacy,  was  felled  from  the  saddle  by  a  ter- 
rible cut,  which  clove  his  skull,  and  a  very  dexterous  young 
fellow,  who  attempted  to  escape  by  a  side  street,  dodged 
a  bevy  of  pursuers  and  saved  his  head  by  the  loss  of  both 
his  ears.  The  disfigured  corpses  of  those  freshly  slain  were 
laid  along  the  sidewalk  in  a  row  ;  and  after  some  invasion 
of  henroosts  and  private  pantries,  we  remounted,  and  with 


244  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

fifty  or  more  prisoners  crossed  the  Rapidan,  and  were 
welcomed  into  Culpepper  with  cheers.  The  prisoners  were 
lodged  in  the  loft  of  the  Court  House,  and  their  officers 
were  paroled,  and  boarded  among  the  neighbors.  They 
complied  with  the  terms  of  their  parole  very  honorably,  and 
bore  testimony  to  the  courtesy  of  their  captors.  I  talked 
with  them  often  upon  the  tavern  porch,  but  an  undue  inti- 
macy with  any  of  them  might  have  brought  me  into  disre- 
pute. Although  the  larders  of  the  village  were  supposed 
to  be  empty,  savory  meals  were  nevertheless  sent  daily  to 
these  cavalry-men,  and  it  was  evident  that  the  people  on  all 
hands  sympathized  with  their  soldiery. 

The  stringent  orders  of  Pope,  relative  to  removing  the 
disaffected  beyond  his  lines,  were  never  enforced.  I  doubt 
if  the  veritable  commander  himself  meant  to  do  more  than 
intimidate  evil  doers  ;  but  I  saw  frequent  evidences  of  scru- 
pulous humanity  on  the  part  of  his  general  officers. 

One  day,  when  I  was  negotiating  with  the  Provost  for 
the  purchase  of  some  port  wine,  stored  upon  the  premises 
of  a  village  druggist,  a  sergeant  elbowed  his  way  into  the 
presence  of  the  Marshal,  and  pushed  forward  two  very  dirty 
lads,  who  gave  their  ages  respectively,  as  ten  and  thirteen 
years.  They  were  of  Hibernian  parentage,  and  belonged 
to  the  class  of  newsboys  trading  with  the  different  brigades. 
The  younger  lad  was  wiping  his  nose  and  eyes  with  a  relic 
of  a  coat  sleeve,  and  the  elder  was  studying  the  points  of 
the  case,  with  a  view  to  an  elaborate  defence.  The  ser- 
geant produced  a  thick  roll  of  bills  and  laid  them  upon  the 
desk. 

"  Gineral  Crawford,"  said  he,  "  orders  these  boys  to  be 
locked  up  in  the  jail.  They  have  been  passing  this  stuff 
upon  the  country  folks,  and  belong  to  a  gang  of  young  var- 
mints who  follers  the  '  lay.'  The  Gineral  is  going  to  have 
'em  brought  up  at  the  proper  time  and  punished." 

The  bills  were  fair  imitations  of  Confederate  currency,  and 
were  openly  sold  in  the  streets  of  Northern  cities  at  the 


CAMPAIGNS   OF  A  NON-COMBATANT.  245 

rate  of  thousands  of  dollars  for  a  penny.  These  lads  prob- 
ably purchased  horses,  swine,  or  fowls  with  them,  or  per- 
haps paid  some  impoverished  widow  for  board  in  the  worth- 
less counterfeit. 

The  younger  lad  sobbed  and  howled  when  the  order  for 
his  incarceration  had  been  announced,  but  the  elder  made  a 
stout  remonstrance. 

He  didn't  know  the  Gineral  would  arrest  him.  Everybody 
else  passed  the  bills.  He  thought  they  wos  good  bills; 
some  man  gave  'em  to  him.  They  wan't  passed,  nohow, 
upon  nobody  but  Rebels  I  He  could  prove  that !  He 
"know'd"  a  quartermaster  that  passed  'em.  Wouldn't 
they  let  him  and  Sam  off  this  wunst  ? 

They  were  both  sent  to  Coventry,  despite  their  tears, 
and  down  to  the  last  day  of  our  tenure  in  Culpepper,  I  saw 
these  wicked  urchins  peeping  through  the  grates  of  the  old 
brick  jail,  where  they  lay  in  the  steam  and  vapor,  among 
negroes,  drunkards,  and  thieves, —  an  evidence  of  justice, 
which  it  is  a  pleasure  to  record,  in  this  free  narrative. 

I  joined  a  mess  in  the  Ninth  New  York  regiment  finally, 
and  contrived  to  exist  till  the  fifth  of  the  month,  when  Pope 
moved  his  head-quarters  to  a  hill  back  of  Culpepper,  and 
thereafter  I  lived  daintily  for  a  little  while.  On  the  8th  of 
August,  however,  an  event  occurred,  which  disturbed  the 
wisest  calculations  of  the  correspondent  and  the  Generals, 
THE  BATTLE  OP  CEDAR  MOUNTAIN. 
21* 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

GOING   INTO   ACTION. 

WHILE  General  Pope's  army  was  concentrating  between 
the  Kappahannock  and  Rapidan  rivers,  the  army  of  Gen- 
eral Stonewall  Jackson  was  lying  upon  the  south  bank  of 
the  Eapidan,  and  that  renowned  commander's  head-quarters 
were  at  Gordonsville,  about  thirty  miles  from  Culpepper.  It 
was  generally  presumed  that  Jackson  had  fortified  Gordons- 
ville, intending  to  lie  in  wait  there,  or  possibly  to  oppose 
the  crossing  of  Pope  upon  the  banks  of  the  river.  It  was 
not  believed  that  Jackson's  force  was  very  great,  because 
the  main  body  of  the  Confederates  were  held  below  Rich- 
mond, where  McClellan's  army  still  remained.  The  South- 
ern capital  seemed  to  be  menaced  both  from  the  North  and 
the  South  ;  but  in  reality,  the  Grand  Army  Was  re-embark- 
ing at  Harrison's  Bar,  and  sailing  up  the  Chesapeake  in  de- 
tachments, to  effect  a  junction  with  Pope  on  the  plains  of 
Piedmont.  So  important  a  movement  could  not  be  con- 
cealed from  the  Confederates,  and  they  had  resolved  to  an- 
nihilate Pope  before  McClellan's  reinforcements  could  ar- 
rive. It  was  the  work  of  two  weeks  to  transport  eighty  or 
a  hundred  thousand  men  three  hundred  miles,  and  finding 
that  Burnside's  corps  had  already  landed  upon  the  Potomac, 
Stonewall  Jackson  determined  to  cross  the  Rapidan  and 
cripple  the  fragment  of  Pope's  forces  stationed  at  Culpep- 
per. 

Stonewall  Jackson  is  one  of  the  many  men  whose  ex- 
(246) 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    NON-COMBATANT.  247 

traordinary  military  genius  has  been  developed  by  the  civil 
war.  But  unlike  the  mass  who  have  become  famous  in  a 
day,  and  lost  their  laurels  in  a  week,  Jackson's  glory  has 
steadily  increased.  He  was  first  brought  into  notice  at 
Winchester,  where  he  fought  a  fierce  battle  with  'Banks,  and 
derived  the  sobriquet  which  he  has  retained  to  the  present 
time.  Soon  afterward,  he  chased  Banks's  army  down  the 
Shenandoah  Valley,  and  across  the  Potomac,  Afterward, 
he  bore  a  conspicuous  part  in  the  engagement  below  Rich- 
mond, and  was  now  to  become  prominent  in  the  most  dar- 
ing episodes  of  the  whole  war.  His  excellence  was  activ- 
ity. He  scrupled  at  no  fatigue,  marched  his  troops  over 
steep  and  circuitous  roads,  was  everywhere  when  unex- 
pected, a  id  nowhere  when  sought,  and  his  boldness  was 
equal  to  his  energy.  He  did  not  fear  to  attack  overpower- 
ing numbers,  if  the  situation  demanded  it.  All  that  Gen- 
eral Lee  might  plan,  General  Jackson  would  dare  to  exe- 
cute ;  and  he  has  been,  above  all  others,  the  Soult  of  the 
Southern  war,  while  Stuart  was  its  Murat,  and  Lee  its  Na- 
poleon. 

We  first  had  intimation  of  the  advance  of  Jackson  on 
the  afternoon  of  the  7th  of  August.  Two  regiments  of  cav- 
alry, picketed  upon  the  Rapidan,  rode  pell-mell  into  Culpep- 
per,  reporting  a  large  Southern  force  at  the  fords,  and  rap- 
idly advancing.  Pope  at  once  ordered  the  whole  of  one  of 
these  regiments  under  arrest,  and  it  was  the  opinion  of  the 
army  that  the  approach  was  a  feint,  or,  at  most,  a  recon- 
noissance  in  force.  Subsequent  information  satisfied  the  in- 
credulous, however,  that  a  considerable  body  of  troops 
were  marching  northward,  and  their  outriding  scouts  had 
been  seen  at  Cedar  Mountain,  only  six  miles  from  Culpcp- 
per.  The  latter  is  one  of  the  many  woody  knobs  or  heights 
that  environ  the  village,  but  it  is  nearer  than  any  other,  and 
should  have  been  occupied  by  Pope,  simultaneously  with 
his  arrival.  It  is  scarcely  a  mountain  in  elevation,  but  so 
high  that  the  clouds  often  envelope  its  crest,  and  it  com- 


248  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

mands  a  view  of  all  the  surrounding  country.  There  are 
cleared  patches  up  its  sides,  and  the  highest  of  these  con- 
stitutes the  farm  of  a  clergyman,  after  whom  the  eminence 
is  sometimes  called  "Slaughter's  Mountain."  At  its  base 
lie  a  few  pleasant  farms  ;  and  a  shallow  rivulet  or  creek, 
called  Cedar  Run,  crosses  the  road  between  the  mountain 
and  Culpepper.  Upon  the  mountain  side  Jackson  had 
placed  his  batteries,  and  his  infantry  lay  in  dense  thickets 
and  belts  of  woods  before  the  hill  and  on  each  side  of  it. 
The  position  was  a  powerful,  though  not  an  impregnable 
one  ;  for  batteries  might  readily  be  pushed  up  the  slope,  and 
our  infantry  had  often  ascended  steeper  eminences.  But  an 
opposing  army  scattered  about  the  meadow  lands  below, 
would  find  its  several  components  exposed  to  shot  and 
shell,  thrown  from  points  three  or  four  hundred  feet  above 
them. 

When  it  had  been  discovered  that  the  enemy  had  antici- 
pated us  in  seizing  this  strong  position,  word  was  at  once 
despatched  to  Banks  and  Siegel  to  bring  up  their  columns 
without  delay.  The  brigade  of  General  Crawford  was 
marched  through  Culpepper  at  noon  on  Friday ;  and  that 
afternoon,  foot-sore,  but  enthusiastic,  regiments  began  to 
arrive  in  rapid  succession. 

I  had  been  passing  the  morning  of  Friday  with  Colonel 
Bowman,  a  modest  and  capable  gentleman,  when  the  seren- 
ity of  our  converse  was  disturbed  by  a  sergeant,  who  rode 
into  camp  with  orders  for  a  prompt  advance  in  light  march- 
ing order.  In  a  twinkling  all  the  camps  in  the  vicinity  were 
deserted,  and  the  roads  were  so  blocked  with  soldiers  on  my 
return,  that  I  was  obliged  to  ride  through  fields. 

I  trotted  rapidly  into  the  village,  and  witnessed  a  scene 
exciting  and  martial  beyond  anything  which  I  had  remarked 
with  the  Army  of  Virginia.  Regiments  were  pouring  by  all 
the  roads  and  lanes  into  the  main  street,  and  the  spectacle 
of  thousands  of  bayonets,  extending  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  was  enhanced  by  the  music  of  a  score  of  bands, 


CAMPAIGNS   OF  A  NON-COMBATANT.  249 

throbbing  all  at  the  same  moment  with  wild  music.  The 
orders  of  officers  rang  out  fitfully  in  the  din,  and  when  the 
steel  shifted  from  shoulder  to  shoulder,  it  was  like  looking 
down  a  long  sparkling  wave.  Above  the  confusion  of  the 
time,  the  various  nativities  of  volunteers  roared  their  na- 
tional ballads.  "  St.  Patrick's  Day,"  intermingled  with  the 
weird  refrain  of"  Bonnie  Dundee,"  and  snatches  of  German 
sword-songs  were  drowned  by  the  thrilling  chorus  of  the 
"  Star-Spangled  Banner."  Then  some  stentor  would  strike 
a  stave  of — 

"John  Brown's  body  lies  a  mouldering  in  the  grave," 

and  the  wild,  mournful  music  would  be  caught  up  by  all,  — 
Germans,  Celts,  Saxons,  till  the  little  town  rang  with  the 
thunder  of  voices,  all  uttering  the  name  of  the  grim  old 
Moloch,  whom  —  more  than  any  one  save  Hunter  —  Vir- 
ginia hates.  Suddenly,  as  if  by  rehearsal,  all  hats  would 
go  up,  all  bayonets  toss  and  glisten,  and  huzzas  would 
deafen  the  winds,  while  the  horses  reared  upon  their 
haunches  and  the  sabres  rose  and  fell.  Then,  column  by 
column,  the  masses  passed  eastward,  while  the  prisoners  in 
the  Court-House  cupola  looked  down,  and  the  citizens 
peeped  in  fear  through  crevices  of  windows. 

Being  unattached  to  the  staff  of  any  General  at  the  time, 
and  therefore  at  liberty  as  a  mere  spectator,  I  rode  rapidly 
after  the  troops,  passed  the  foremost  regiments,  and  unwit- 
tingly kept  to  the  left,  which  I  did  not  discover  in  the  ex- 
citement of  the  ride,  till  my  horse  was  foaming  and  my  face 
furrowed  with  heat  drops.  I  saw  that  the  way  had  been 
little  travelled,  and  inquiry  at  a  log  farm-house,  some  dis- 
tance further,  satisfied  me  that  I  had  mistaken  the  way. 
Two  men  in  coarse  brown  suits,  were  chopping  wood  here, 
and  they  informed  me,  with  an  oath,  that  the  last  soldiers 
seen  in  the  neighborhood,  had  been  Confederate  pickets.  A 
by-road  enabled  me  to  recover  the  proper  route,  and  from 


250  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

the  top  of  a  hill  overlooking  Culpeppor,  I  had  a  view  of 
the  hamlet,  nestling  in  its  hollow  ;  the  roads  entering  it, 
black  with  troops,  and  all  the  slopes  covered  with  wagon- 
trains,  whose  white  canopies  seemed  infinite.  The  skies 
were  gorgeously  dyed  over  the  snug  cottages  and  modest 
spires  ;  some  far  woods  were  folded  in  a  pleasant  haze ; 
and  the  blue  mountains  lifted  their  huge  backs,  voluming  in 
the  distance,  like  some  boundary  for  humanity,  with  a  hap- 
pier land  beyond.  lEere  I  might  have  stood,  a  few  months 
before,  and  heard  the  church  bells ;  and  the  trees  around 
me  might  have  been  musical  with  birds.  But  now  the  par- 
sons and  the  choristers  were  gone  ;  the  scaffold  was  erected, 
the  axe  bare,  and  with  a  good  by  glance  at  the  world  and 
man,  some  hundreds  of  wretches  were  to  drop  into  eter- 
nity. We  have  all  read  of  the  guillotine  in  other  lands  ;  it 
was  now  before  me  in  my  own. 

As  I  passed  into  the  highway  again,  and  riding  through 
narrow  passages,  grazing  officers'  knees,  turning  vicious 
battery  horses,  winding  in  and  out  of  woods,  making  de- 
tours through  pasture  fields,  leaping  ditches,  and  so  mak- 
ing perilous  progress,  I  passed  many  friends  who  hailed  me 
cheerfully,  —  here  a  brigadier-general  who  waved  his  hand, 
or  a  colonel  who  saluted,  or  a  staff  officer  who  rode  out  and 
exchanged  inquiries  or  greetings,  or  a  sergeant  who  winked 
and  laughed.  These  were  some  of  the  men  whose  bodies 
I  was  to  stir  to-morrow  with  my  foot,  when  the  eyes  that 
shone  upon  me  now  would  be  swollen  and  ghastly. 

Some  of  the  privates  seeing  me  in  plain  clothes,  as  I  had 
joined  the  army  merely  as  a  visitor  and  with  no  idea  of  see- 
ing immediate  service  there,  mistook  me  for  a  newspaper 
correspondent,  which  in  one  sense  I  was  ;  and  I  was  greeted 
with  such  cries  as  — 

"  Our  Special  Artist !  " 

"Our  Own  Correspondent  1 " 

"  Give  our  Captain  a  setting  up,  you  sir !  " 

"  Puff  our  Colonel !  " 


CA3IPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  251 

"  Give  me  a  good  obituary  !  " 

"  Where's  your  pass,  bub  ?  " 

"  Halloo  !     Jenkins.     Three  cheers  for  Jenkins  !  " 

I  shall  not  soon  forget  one  fellow,  who  planted  himself 
in  my  path  (his  regiment  had  halted),  and  leaning  upon  his 
musket  looked  steadily  into  my  eyes. 

"  Ef  I  had  a  warrant  for  the  devil,"  he  said,  "  I'd  arrest 
that  feller." 

Many  of  the  soldiers  were  pensive  and  thoughtful ;  but 
the  mass  were  marching  to  their  funerals  with  boyish  out- 
cries, apparently  anxious  to  forget  the  responsibilities  of 
the  time. 

"Let's  sing,  boys."  "Oh!  Get  out,  or  I'll  belt  you 
over  the  snout."  "  Halloo  !  Pardner,  is  there  water  over 
there?"  "  Three  groans  for  old  Jeff!"  "Hip-hip  —  hoo- 
roar!  Hi!  Hi!" 

A  continual  explosion  of  small  arms,  in  the  shape  of  epi- 
thets, jests,  imitations  of  the  cries  of  sheep,  cows,  mules, 
and  roosters,  and  snatches  of  songs,  enlivened  the  march. 
If  something  interposed,  or  a  halt  was  ordered,  the  men 
would  throw  themselves  in  the  dust,  wipe  their  foreheads, 
drink  from  their  canteens,  gossip,  grin,  and  shout  confus- 
edly, and  some  sought  opportunities  to  straggle  off,  so  that 
the  regiments  were  materially  decimated  before  they  reached 
the  field.  The  leading  officers  maintained  a  dignity  and  a 
reserve,  and  reined  their  horses  together  in  places,  to 
confer.  At  one  time,  a  private  soldier  came  out  to  me, 
presenting  a  scrap  of  paper,  and  asked  me  to  scrawl  him  a 
line,  which  he  would  dictate.  It  was  as  follows  : — 

"  My  dear  Mary,  we  are  going  into  action  soon,  and  I  send 
you  my  love.  Kiss  baby,  and  if  I  am  not  killed  I  will  write  to 
you  after  the  fight."  The  man  asked  me  to  mail  the  scrap  at 
the  first  opportunity  ;  but  the  same  post  which  carried  his 
simple  billet,  carried  also  his  name  among  the  rolls  of  the 
dead. 

At  five  o'clock  I  overtook  Crawford's  brigade,  drawn  up 


252  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT. 

in  front  of  a  fine  girdle  of  timber,  in  a  grass  field,  and  on 
the  edge  of  Cedar  Creek.  Their  ambulances  had  been  un- 
hitched, and  ranged  in  a  row  against  the  woods  and  the 
soldiers  were  soon  formed  in  line  of  battle,  extending  across 
the  road,  with  their  faces  toward  the  mountain.  In  this 
order  they  moved  through  the  creek,  and  disappeared  be- 
hind the  ridge  of  a  cornfield.  The  hill  towered  in  front,  but 
with  the  naked  eye  I  could  distinguish  only  a  speck  of  float- 
ing something  above  the  roof  of  Slaughter's  white  house. 
This  was  said  to  be  a  flag,  though  I  did  not  believe  it ;  and 
as  there  were  no  evidences  of  any  enemy,  which  I  could  de- 
termine, I  turned  my  attention  to  the  immediate  necessities 
of  myself  and  my  horse.  A  granary  lay  at  a  little  distance, 
and  as  I  was  hastening  thither,  a  trooper  came  along  with  a 
blanket  full  of  corn.  Fortuitously,  he  dropped  about  a 
dozen  ears,  which  I  secured,  and  hitched  my  animal  to  a 
tree,  where  he  munched  until  I  had  fallen  asleep.  The 
latter  event  happened  in  this  wise. 

I  had  observed  a  slight  person  in  the  iiniform  of  a  sur- 
geon. He  was  dividing  a  large  lump  of  pork  at  the  time, 
and  three  great  crackers  lay  before  him.  I  approached  and 
introduced  myself,  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  was  a  partial 
proprietor  of  the  meat,  and  he  a  recipient  of  some  drink. 
The  same  person  directed  me  to  occupy  a  shelf  of  the  am- 
bulance, and  when  we  lay  down  together  he  narrated  some  of 
his  experiences  in  Martinsburg,  when  the  Confederates  occu- 
pied the  place  after  Banks' s  retreat.  He  had  cha  rge  of  a  hos- 
pital at  that  time,  and  witnessed  the  entrance  of  the  Confed- 
erate army.  The  wildness  of  the  people  was  unbounded,  he 
said,  and  all  who  had  given  so  much  as  a  drop  of  cold  water 
to  the-invaders  were  pointed  out  and  execrated.  The  proper- 
ties of  a  few,  said  to  be  Unionists,  were  endangered  ;  and 
ruffianly  soldiers  climbed  to  the  windows  of  the  hospital, 
hooting  and  taunting  the  sick.  Not  to  be  outdone  in  bitter- 
ness, the  tenants  flung  up  their  crutches  and  cheered  for 
the  "Union,"-— that  darling  idea,  which  has  marshalled  a 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-OOMBATANT. 


million  of  men  and  filled  hecatombs  with  its  champions.  In 
a  few  days  the  Federals  took  possession  of  the  town  anew, 
and  the  Southern  element  was  in  turn  oppressed.  This  is 
Civil  War, —  more  cruel  than  the  excesses-  of  hereditary 
enemies.  A  year  before  these  people  of  the  Shenandoah 
were  fellow-countrymen  of  the  soldiery  they  contemned. 
92 


CHAPTEK    XXIV. 

CEDAR   MOUNTAIN. 

THERE  being  nothing  to  eat  in  the  vicinity  of  the  ambu- 
lances, I  mounted  anew  at  five  o'clock  and  rode  back  toward 
Culpepper.  No  portion  of  the  troops  of  Crawford  were 
visible  now,  and  only  some  gray  smoke  moved  up  the  side 
of  the  mountain.  A  few  stragglers  were  bathing  their  faces 
in  Cedar  Creek,  and  some  miles  in  the  rear  lay  several  of 
McDowell's  brigades  under  arms.  Their  muskets  were 
stacked  along  the  sides  of  the  road,  the  men  lay  sleepily 
upon  the  ground,  —  company  by  company,  each  in  its 
proper  place,  —  the  field-officers  gossiping  together,  and  the 
colors  upright  and  unfurled.  I  was  stopped,  all  the  way 
along  the  lines,  and  interrogated  as  to  what  was  happening 
in  front. 

"  Any  Reb-bils  out  yonder  ? "  asked  a  grim,  snappish 
Colonel. 

"Guess  they  don't  mean  to  fight  before  breakfast!" 
blurted  a  Captain. 

"  Wish  they'd  cut  away,  anyway,  if  they  goin'  to !  " 
muttered  a  chorus  of  privates. 

At  the  village  there  was  nothing  to  be  purchased, 
although  some  sutlers'  stores  lay  at  the  depot,  guarded  by 
Provost  officers.  I  persuaded  a  negro  to  give  me  a  mess  of 
almost  raw  pork,  and  a  woman,  with  a  child  at  the  breast, 
cooked  me  some  biscuit.  There  were  many  civilians  and 
idle  officers  in  the  town,  and  the  streets  were  lined  with 

(254) 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  255 

cavalry.  Mr.  Paine,  the  landlord,  was  losing  the  remnant 
of  his  wits,  and  the  young  ladies  were  playing  the  "  Bonnie 
Blue  Flag/'  and  laughing  satirically  at  some  young  officers 
who  listened.  The  correspondents  began  to  show  them- 
selves in  force,  and  a  young  fellow  whom  I  may  call  Chitty, 
representing  a  provincial  journal,  greatly  amused  me,  with 
the  expression  of  fears  that  there  might  be  no  engagement 
after  all.  Chitty  was  an  attorney,  who  had  forsaken  a  very 
moderate  practice,  for  a  press  connection,  and  he  informed 
me,  in  confidence,  that  he  was  gathering  materials  for  a  his- 
tory of  the  war.  By  reason  of  his  attention  to  this  weighty 
project,  he  failed  to  do  any  reporting,  and  as  his  mind  was 
not  very  well  balanced,  he  was  commonly  taken  to  be  a 
simpleton.  As  there  was  nobody  else  to  talk  to,  I  amused 
myself  with  Chitty  during  the  forenoon,  and  he  narrated  to 
me  some  doubtful  intrigues  which  had  varied  his  career  in 
Piedmont.  But  Chitty  had  mingled  in  no  battles,  and  now 
that  a  contest  was  about  to  take  place,  his  heart  warmed  in 
anticipation.  He  asked  me  if  the  hottest  fighting  would  not 
probably  occur  on  the  right,  and  intimated,  in  that  event, 
his  desire  to  carry  despatches  through  the  thickest  of  the 
fray.  Death  was  welcome  to  Chitty  if  he  could  so  distin- 
guish himself.  Between  Chitty  and  a  nap  in  a  wagon,  I 
managed  to  loiter  out  the  morning,  and  at  three  o'clock,  a 
cannon  peal,  so  close  that  it  shook  the  houses,  brought  my 
horse  upon  his  haunches.  For  awhile  I  did  not  leave  the 
village.  Cannon  upon  cannon  exploded  ;  the  young  ladies 
ceased  their  mirth  ;  the  landlord  staggered  with  white  lips 
into  the  air,  and  after  a  couple  of  hours,  I  heard  the  signal 

that  I  knew  so  well a  volley  of  musketry.     Full  of  all 

the  old  impulses,  I  climbed  into  the  saddle,  and  spurred  my 
horse  towards  the  battle-field. 

The  ride  over  six  miles  of  clay  road  was  a  capital  school 
for  my  pony.  Every  hoof-fall  brought  him  closer  to  the 
cannon,  and  the  sound  had  become  familiar  when  he  reached 
the  scene.  At  four  o'clock,  the  musketry  was  close  and 


256  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NON-COMBATANT. 

effective  beyond  anything  I  had  known,  and  now  and  then 
I  could  see,  from  secure  places,  the  spurts  of  white  cannon- 
smoke  far  up  the  side  of  the  mountain.  The  action  was 
commenced  by  emulous  skirmishers,  who  crawled  from  the 
woodsides,  and  annoyed  each  other  from  coverts  of  ridge, 
stump,  and  stone  heap.  A  large  number  of  Southern  rifle- 
men then  threw  themselves  into  a  corner  of  wood,  consid- 
erably advanced  from  their  main  position.  Their  fire  was 
'  so  destructive  that  General  Banks  felt  it  necessary  to  order 
a  charge.  Two  brigades,  when  the  signal  was  given, 
marched  in  line  of  battle,  out  of  a  wood,  and  charged  across 
a  field  of  broken  ground  toward  the  projecting  corner.  As 
soon  as  they  appeared,  sharpshooters  darted  up  from  a 
stretch  of  scrub  cedars  on  their  right,  and  a  battery  mowed 
them  down  by  an  oblique  fire  from  the  left.  The  guns  up 
the  mountain  side  threw  shells  with  beautiful  exactness,  and 
the  concealed  rifle-men  in  front  poured  in  deadly  showers 
of  bullet  and  ball.  As  the  men  fell  by  dozens  out  of  line, 
the  survivors  closed  up  the  gaps,  and  pressed  forward  gal- 
lantly. The  ground  was  uneven,  however,  and  solid  order 
could  not  be  observed  throughout.  At  length,  when  they 
had  gained  a  brookside  at  the  very  edge  of  the  wood,  the 
column  staggered,  quailed,  fell  into  disorder,  and  then  fell 
back.  Some  of  the  more  desperate  dashed  singly  into  the 
thicket,  bayoneting  their  enemies,  and  falling  in  turn  in 
the  fierce  grapple.  Others  of  the  Confederates  ran  from  the 
wood,  and  engaged  hand  to  hand  with  antagonists,  and,  in 
places,  a  score  of  combatants  met  sturdily  upon  the  plain, 
lunging  with  knife  and  sabre  bayonet,  striking  with  clubbed 
musket,  or  discharging  revolvers.  But  at  last  the  broken 
lines  regained  the  shelter  of  the  timber,  and  there  was  a 
momentary  lull  in  the  thunder. 

For  a  time,  each  party  kept  in  the  edges  of  the  timber, 
firing  at  will,  but  the  Confederates  were  moving  forward  in 
masses  by  detours,  until  some  thousands  of  them  stood  in 
the  places  of  the  few  who  were  at  first  isolated.  Distinct 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT,  257 

charges  were  now  made,  and  a  large  body  of  Federals  at- 
tempted to  capture  the  battery  before  Slaughter's  house, 
while  separate  brigades  charged  by  front  and  flank  upon  the 
impenetrable  timber.  The  horrible  results  of  the  previous  effort 
were  repeated ;  the  Confederates  preserved  their  position, 
and,  at  nightfall,  the  Federals  fell  back  a  mile  or  more. 
From  fifteen  hundred  to  two  thousand  of  the  latter  were 
slain  or  wounded,  and,  though  the  heat  of  the  battle  had 
lasted  not  more  than  two  hours,  nearly  four  thousand  men 
upon  both  sides  were  maimed  or  dead.  The  valor  of  the 
combatants  in  either  cause  was  unquestionable.  But  no 
troops  in  the  world  could  have  driven  the  Confederates  out 
of  the  impregnable  mazes  of  the  wood.  It  was  an  error  to 
expose  columns  of  troops  upon  an  open  plain,  in  the  face  of 
imperceptible  sharpshooters.  The  batteries  should  have 
shelled  the  thickets,  and  the  infantry  should  have  retained 
their  concealment.  The  most  disciplined  troops  of  Europe 
would  not  have  availed  in  a  country  of  bog,  barren,  ditch, 
creek,  forest,  and  mountain.  Compared  to  the  bare  plain  of 
Waterloo,  Cedar  Mountain  was  like  the  antediluvian  world, 
when  the  surface  was  broken  by  volcanic  fire  into  chasms 
and  abysses.  In  this  battle,  the  Confederate  batteries, 
along  the  mountain  side,  were  arranged  in  the  form  of  a 
crescent,  and,  when  the  solid  masses  charged  up  the  hill, 
they  were  butchered  by  enfilading  fires.  On  the  Confeder- 
ate part,  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  country  was  mani- 
fest, and  the  best  possible  disposition  of  forces  and  means  ; 
on  the  side  of  the  Federals,  there  was  zeal  without  discre- 
tion, and  gallantry  without  generalship. 

During  the  action,  "Stonewall"  Jackson  occupied  a 
commanding  position  on  the  side  of  the  mountain,  where, 
glass  in  hand,  he  observed  every  change  of  position,  and 
directed  all  the  operations.  General  Banks  was  indefatig- 
able and  courageous  ;  but  he  was  left  to  fight  the  whole 
battle,  and  not  a  regiment  of  the  large  reserve  in  his  rear, 
came  forward  to  succor  or  relieve  him.  As  usual,  McDow- 

22* 


258  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    NON-COMBATANT. 

ell  was  cursed  by  all  sides,  and  some  of  Banks's  soldiers 
threatened  to  shoot  him.  But  the  unpopular  Commander 
had  no  defence  to  make,  and?  said  nothing*  to  clear  up  the 
doubts  relative  to  him.  He  exposed  himself  repeatedly, 
and  so  did  Pope.  The  latter  rode  to  the  front  at  nightfall, 
—  for  what  purpose  no  one  could  say,  as  he  had  been  in 
Culpepper  during  the  whole  afternoon,  —  and  he  barely 
escaped  being*  captured.  The  loss  of  Federal  officers  was 
very  heavy.  Fourteen  commissioned  officers  were  killed 
and  captured  out  of  one  regiment.  Sixteen  commissioned 
officers  only  remained  in  four  regiments.  One  General  was 
taken  prisoner  and  several  were  wounded.  A  large 
number  of  field-officers  were  slain. 

During  the  progress  of  the  fight  I  galloped  from  point  to 
point  along  the  rear,  but  could  nowhere  obtain  a  panoramic 
view.  The  common  sentiment  of  civilians,  that  it  is  always 
possible  to  see  a  battle,  is  true  of  isolated  contests  only. 
Even  the  troops  engaged,  know  little  of  the  occurrences 
around  them,  and  I  have  been  assured  by  many  soldiers 
that  they  have  fought  a  whole  day  without  so  much  as  a 
glimpse  of  an  enemy.  The  smoke  and  dust  conceal  objects, 
and  where  the  greatest  execution  is  done,  the  antagonists 
have  frequently  fired  at  a  line  of  smoke,  behind  which 
columns  may,  or  may  not  have  been  posted.. 

It  was  not  till  nightfall,  when  the  Federals  gave  up  the 
contested  ground,  and  fell  back  to  some  cleared  fields,  that 
I  heard  anything  of  the  manner  of  action  and  the  resulting 
losses.  As  soon  as  the  firing  ceased,  the  ambulance  corps 
went  ahead  and  began  'to  gather  up  the  wounded.  As 
many  of  these  as  could  walk  passed  to  the  rear  on  foot,  and 
the  spectacle  at  eight  o'clock  was  of  a  terrible  character. 
The  roads  were  packed  with  ambulances,  creaking  under 
fearful  weights,  and  rod  by  rod,  the  teams  were  stopped,  to 
accommodate  other  sufferers  who  had  fallen  or  fainted  on  the 
walk.  A  crippled  man  would  cling  to  the  tail  of  a  wagon, 
while"  the  tongue  would  be  burdened  with  two,  sustaining 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    NON-COMBATANT.  259 

themselves  by  the  backs  of  the  horses.  Water  was  sought 
for  everywhere,  and  all  were  hungry.  1  met  at  sundry 
times,  Mends  who  had  passed  me,  hopeful  and  humorous 
the  day  before,  now  crawling  wearily  with  a  shattered  leg 
or  dumb  with  a  stiff  and  dripping  jaw.  To  realize  the 
horror  of  the  night,  imagine  a  common  clay  road,  in  a  quiet, 
rolling  country,  packed  with  bleeding  people,  —  the  fences 
down,  horsemen  riding  through  the  fields,  wagons  blocking 
the  way,  reinforcements  in  dark  columns  hurrying  up,  the 
shouting  of  the  well  to  the  ill,  and  the  feeble  replies,  —  in  a 
word,  recall  that  elder  time  when  the  "  earth  was  filled  with 
violence/'  and  add  to  the  idea  that  the  time  was  in  the 
night. 

I  assumed  my  old  role  of  writing  the  names  of  the 
wounded,  but  when,  at  nine  o'clock,  the  10th  Maine  regi- 
ment—  a  fragment  of  the  proud  column  which  passed  me 
in  the  morning  —  returned,  I  hailed  Colonel  Beale,  and 
reined  with  him  into  a  clover-field,  the  files  folio  wing 
wearily.  Tramping  through  the  tall  garbage,  with  few 
words,  and  those  spoken  in  low  tones,  we  stopped  at  length 
in  a  sort  of  basin,  with  the  ground  rising  on  every  side  of 
us.  The  men  were  placed  in  line,  and  the  Company  Ser- 
geants called  the  rolls.  Some  of  the  replies  were  thrilling, 
but  all  were  prosaic  :  — 

"  Smith !  " 

"  Smithe  fell  at  the  first  fire,  Sergeant.  Bill,  here,  saw 
him  go  down." 

"Sturgis!" 

"  Sam's  in  the  ambulance,  wi'  his  thigh  broke.  I  don't 
believe  he'll  live,  Sergeant !  " 

"  Thompson !  " 

"Dead." 

"  Vinton !  " 

"  Yar  !  (feebly  said)  four  fingers  shot  off  I  " 

In  this  way,  the  long  lists  were  read  over,  while  the  sur- 
vivors chatted,  laughed,  and  disputed,  talking  of  the  inci- 


2GO  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

dents  of  the  day.  Most  of  the  men  lay  down  in  the  clover, 
and  some  started  off  in  couples  to  procure  water.  The 
field-officers  gave  me.  some  items  relative  to  the  conflict,  and 
as  they  were  ordered  to  remain  here,  I  resolved  to  pass  the 
night  with  them.  Obtaining  a  great  fence-rail,  I  lashed  my 
horse  to  it  by  his  halter,  and,  removing  his  saddle  and 
bridle,  left  him  free  to  graze  in  the  vicinity.  Then  I  un- 
folded my  camp-bed,  covered  myself  with  a  rubber  blanket, 
and  continued  to  listen  to  the  conversation.  Of  course,  ac- 
cusations, bitter  mutterings,  moodiness,  and  melancholy, 
prevailed.  I  heard  these  for  some  time,  interspersed  with 
sententious  eulogies  upon  particular  persons,  and  references 
to  isolated  events.  The  evening  was  one  of  the  pleasantest 
of  the  year,  in  all  that  nature  could  contribute  ;  a  fine  star- 
light, a  transparent  atmosphere,  a  coolness,  and  a  fragrance 
of  sweet-clover  blossoms.  I  had  laid  my  head  upon  my 
arm,  and  shut  my  eyes,  and  felt  drowsiness  come  upon  me, 
when  something  hurtled  through  the  air,  and  another  gun 
boomed  on  the  stillness.  A  shell,  describing  an  arc  of  fire, 
fell  some  distance  to  our  left,  and,  in  a  moment,  a  second 
shell  passed  directly  over  our  heads. 

" 1  "  said  an  officer;  "have  they  moved  a  battery 

so  close  ?  See  !  it  is  just  at  the  end  of  this  field  !  " 

I  looked  back  !  At  the  top  of  the  basin  in  which  we  lay, 
something  flashed  up,  throwing  a  glare  upon  the  woody 
background,  and  a  shell,  followed  by  a  shock,  crashed  ric- 
ochetting,  directly  in  a  line  with  us,  but  leaped,  fortunately, 
above  us,  and  continued  its  course  far  beyond. 

"They  mean  'em  for  us,"  said  the  same  voice;  "they 
see  these  lights  where  the  fools  have  been  warming  their 
coffee.  Halloo !  " 

Another  glare  of  fire  revealed  the  grouped  men  and 
horses  around  the  battery,  and  for  a  moment  I  thought  the 
missile  had  struck  among  us.  There  was  a  splutter,  as  of 
shivering  metal  flying  about,  and,  with  a  sort  of  intuition, 
the  whole  regiment  rose  and  ran.  I  started  to  my  feet  and 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  261 

looked  for  my  horse.  His  ears  were  erect,  his  eyeballs  dis- 
tended, and  his  nostrils  wore  tremulous  with  fright.  A 
fifth  shell,  so  perfectly  in  range  that  I  held  my  breath,  and 
felt  my  heart  grow  cold,  came  toward  and  passed  me,  and, 
with  a  toss  of  his  head,  the  nag  flung  up  the  rail  as  if  it  had 
been  a  feather.  He  seemed  literally  to  juggle  it,  and  it 
flitted  here  and  there,  so  that  I  dared  not  approach  him.  A 
favorable  opportunity  at  length  ensued,  and  I  seized  the 
animal  by  his  halter.  He  was  now  wild  with  panic,  and 
sprang  toward  me  as  if  to  trample  me.  In  vain  I  endeav- 
ored to  pull  him  toward  the  saddle.  Fresh  projectiles 
darted  beside  and  above  us,  and  the  last  of  these  seemed  to 
pass  so  close  that  I  could  have  reached  and  touched  it. 
The  panic  took  possession  of  me.  I  grasped  my  camp-bed, 
rather  by  instinct  than  by  choice,  and,  holding  it  desperately 
under  my  arm,  took  to  my  heels. 

It  was  a  long  distance  to  the  bottom  of  the  clover-field, 
and  the  swift  iron  followed  me  remorselessly.  At  one  mo- 
ment, when  a  shell  burst  full  in  my  face,  half  blinding  me, 
I  felt  weak  to  faint-ness,  but  still  I  ran.  I  had  wit  enough 
to  avoid  the  high  road,  which  I  knew  to  be  packed  with  fu- 
gitives, and  down  which,  I  properly  surmised,  the  enemy 
would  send  his  steady  messengers.  Once  I  fell  into  a  ditch, 
and  the  breath  was  knocked  out  of  my  body,  but  I  rolled 
over  upon  "my  feet  with  marvellous  sprightliness,  till,  at 
last,  when  I  gained  a  corn-field,  my  attention  was  diverted 
to  a  strange,  rattling  noise  behind  me.  I  turned  and  looked. 
It  was  my  horse,  the  rail  dangling  between  his  legs,  his 
eyes  on  fire  in  the  night.  As  we  regarded  each  other,  a 
shell  burst  between  us.  He  dashed  away  across  the  inhos- 
pitable fields,  and  I  fell  into  the  high  road  among  the  routed. 
Expletives  like  these  ensued :  — 

"  Sa-a-ay  !  Hoss  I  Pardner !  Are  you  going  to  ride  over 
this  wounded  feller  ?  " 

"  Friend,  have  you  a  drop  of  water  for  a  man  that's 
fainted  here  ?  " 


262  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NON-COMBATANT. 

"  Halloo  !  Buster !  Keep  that  bayonit  out  o'  my  eye,  if 
you  please ! " 

"  Where's  Gen.  Banks  ?     I  hearn  say  he's  a  prisoner." 

"I  do'  know!"  x 

"  Was  we  licked,  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  No  !  "We  warn't  nothin'  o'  the  kind.  Siegel's  out- 
flanked 'em  and  okkepies  the  field.  A  man  jus'  told  me 
so."  , 

"  Huzza  !  Hearties,  cheer  up  !  Siegel's  took  the  field, 
and  Stonewall  Jackson's  dead."*' 

"  Three  cheers  for  Siegel." 

"  Hoorooar,  hoor " 

"  Oh  !  Get  out !  That's  all  blow.  Don't  try  stuff  me  I 
We're  lathered  ;  that's  the  long  and  shawt  of  it." 

"  Is  that  so  ?     Boys,  I  guess  we're  beat.!  " 

Such  was  the  character  of  exclamations'that  ran  here  and 
there,  and  after  a  little  volley  of  them  had  been  let  off,  a 
long  pause  succeeded,  when  only  the  sighs  of  the  injured 
and  the  tramp  of  men  and  nags  broke  the  silence.  Over- 
head the  starlight  and  the  blue  sky  ;  on  either  side  the  roll- 
ing, shadowy  fields  ;  and  wrapping  the  horizon  in  a  gray, 
grisly  girdle,  the  reposing  woods  plentiful  with  dew.  Na- 
ture was  putting  forth  all  her  still,  sweet  charms,  as  if  to 
make  men  witness  the  damned  contrast  of  their  own  wrath, 
violence,  and  murder.  Even  thus,  perhaps,  —  I  reasoned, 
—  in  the  days  of  old,  did  the  broken  multitudes  of  Xerxes 
return  by  the  shores  of  the  golden  Archipelago  ;  and  the 
Hellespont  shone  as  peacefully  as  these  silvernesses  of 
earth  and  firmament.  The  dulness  of  history  became  in- 
vested with  new  intelligence.  I  filled  in  the  details  of  a 
thousand  routs  conned  in  school-days,  when  only  the  dry 
outlines  lay  before  me.  They  were  mysteries  before,  and 
lacked  the  warmness  of  life  and  truth ;  but  now  I  saw 
them  !  The  armor  and  the  helmets  fell  away,  with  all  other 
trappings  of  custom,  language,  and  ceremony.  This  pale 
giant,  who  walked  behind  the  ambulance,  leaning  upon  the 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  263 

footboard,  was  the  limping  Achilles,  with  the  arrow  of 
Paris  festering  in  his  heel.  This  ancient  veteran,  with  his 
back  to  the  field,  was  the  fugitive  ^Eneas,  leaving  Troy  be- 
hind. And  these,  around  me,  belonged  to  the  columns  of 
Barbazona,  scattered  at  Legnano  by  the  revengeful  Mila- 
nese. Cobweb,  and  thick  dust,  and  faded  parchment  had 
somewhat  softened  those  elder  events  ;  but  in  their  day 
they  were  tangible,  practical,  and  prosaic,  like  this  scene. 
Years  will  roll  over  this,  as  over  those,  and  folks  will  read 
at  firesides,  half  doubtfully,  half  wonderingly,  the  story  of 
this  bafflement,  when  no  fragment  of  its  ruin  remains.  It 
was  a  profound  feeling  that  I  should  thus  be  walking  down 
the  great  retreat  of  time,  and  that  the  occurrences  around 
me  should  be  remembered  forever ! 

There  were  a  few  prisoners  in  the  mass,  walking  before 
cavalry-men.  Nobody  interfered  with  them,  and  they  were 
not  in  a  position  to  feel  elated.  Now  and  then,  when  we 
reached  an  ambulance,  the  fugitives  would  press  around  it 
to  inquire  if  any  of  their  friends  were  within.  Rough 
recognitions  would  ensue,  as  thus  :  — 

"  Bobby,  is  that  you,  back  there  ? —  Bobby  Baker  ?  " 

"  Who  is  it?  "  (feebly  uttered.) 

"Me,  Bobby — Josh  Wiggins.  Are  you  shot  bad,  Bob- 
by?" 

"  Shot  in  the  thigh  ;  think  the  bone's  broke.  You 
haven't  got  a  drop  of  water,  have  you  ?  " 

"  No,  Bobby  ;  wish  I  had.  Have  any  more  of  our  boys 
been  hurt  that  you  know  of  ?  " 

"  Switzer  is  dead  ;  Bill  Cringle  and  Jonesy  are  prisoners  ; 
'  Pud '  White  is  in  the  ambulance  ahead  ;  '  Fol '  Thompson's 
lost  an  arm  ;  that's  all  I  know." 

When  we  had  gone  two  miles  or  more,  we  found  a  pro- 
vost column  drawn  across  the  road,  and  9  mounted  officer 
interrogating  all  who  attempted  to  pass  :  — 

"  Stop  there  !     You're  not  wounded." 

"Yes,  lam." 


26-i  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   KOX-COMBATANT. 

"  Pass  on  I  Plait  boy  1  Go  back.  Men,  close  up  there. 
Stop  that  boy." 

"  I  am  sun-struck,  Major." 

"  You  lie  !     Drive  him  back.     Go  back,  now  I  " 

Beyond  this  the  way  was  comparatively  clear ;  but  as  I 
knew  that  other  guards  held  the  road  further  on,  I  passed 
to  the  right,  and  with  the  hope  of  finding  a  rill  of  water, 
went  across  some  grass  fields,  keeping  toward  the  low 
places.  The  fields  were  very  still,  and  I  heard  only  the 
subdued  noises  wafted  from  the  road  ;  but  suddenly  I  found 
myself  surrounded  by  men.  They  were  lying  in  groups  in 
the  tall  grass,  and  started  up  suddenly,  like  the  clansmen  of 
Roderick  Dhu.  At  first  I  thought  myself  a  prisoner,  and 
these  some  cunning  Confederates,  who  had  lain  in  wait. 
But,  to  my  surprise,  they  were  Federal  uniforms,  and  were 
simply  skulkers  from  various  regiments,  who  had  been  hid- 
ing here  during  the  hours  of  battle.  Some  of  these  miser- 
able wretches  asked  me  the  particulars  of  the  fight,  and 
when  told  of  the  defeat,  muttered  that  they  were  not  to  be 
hood-winked  and  slaughtered. 

"I  was  sick,  anyway,"  said  one  fellow,  "and  felt  like 
droppin'  on  the  road." 

"  I  didn't  trust  my  colonel,"  said  another  ;  "  he  ain't  no 
soldier." 

"  I'm  tired  of  the  war,  anyhow,"  said  a  third,  "  and  my 
time's  up  soon  ;  so  I  shan't  have  my  head  blown  off." 

As  I  progressed,  dozens  of  these  men  appeared  ;  the  fields 
were  strewn  with  them  ;  a  true  man  would  rather  have  been 
lying  with  the  dead  on  the  field  of  carnage,  than  here, 
among  the  craven  and  base.  I  came  to  a  spring  at  last,  and 
the  stragglers  surrounded  it  in  levies.  One  of  them  gave 
me  a  cup  to  dip  some  of  the  crystal,  and  a  prayerful  feeling 
came  over  me  as  the  cooling  draught  fell  over  my  dry  palate 
and  parched  throat.  Regaining  the  road,  I  encountered 
reinforcements  coming  rapidly  out  of  Culpepper,  and  among 
them  was  the  9th  New  York.  My  friend,  Lieutenant  Dra- 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  265 

per,  recognized  me,  and  called  out  that  he  should  see  me  on 
the  morrow,  if  he  was  not  killed  meantime.  Culpepper  was 
filling  with  fugitives  when  I  passed  up  the  main  street,  and 
they  were  sprinkled  along  the  sidewalks,  gossiping  with 
each  other.  The  wounded  were  being  carried  into  some  of 
the  dwellings,  and  when  I  reached  the  Virginia  Hotel,  many 
of  them  lay  upon  the  porch.  I  placed  my  blanket  on  a 
clean  place,  threw  myself  down  exhaustedly,  and  dropped 
to  sleep  directly. 
23 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

OUT  WITH  A  BURYING  PARTY. 

WHEN  I  rose,  at  ten  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  Sunday, 
August  10,  the  porch  was  covered  with  wounded  people. 
Some  fierce  sunbeams  were  gliding  under  the  roof,  shining 
in  the  poor  fellows'  eyes,  and  they  were  stirring  wearily, 
though  asleep.  Picking  my  way  among  the  prostrate 
figures,  I  resorted  to  the  pump  in  the  rear  of  the  tavern  for 
the  purpose  of  bathing  my  face.  A  soldier  stood  there  on 
guard,  and  he  refused  to  give  me  so  much  as  a  draught  of 
water.  The  wounded  needed  every  drop,  and  there  were 
but  a  few  wells  in  the  town.  I  strolled  through  the  main 
street,  now  crowded  with  unfortunates,  and  pausing  at  the 
Court  House,  found  the  seat  of  justice  transmuted  to  a  head- 
quarters for  surgeons,  where  amputations  were  being  per- 
formed. Continuing  by  a  street  to  the  left,  I  came  to  the 
depot,  and  here  the  ambulances  were  gathered  with  their 
scores  of  inmates.  A  tavern  contiguous  to  the  railway  was 
also  a  hospital,  but  in  the  basement  I  found  the  transpor- 
tation agents  at  breakfast,  and  they  gave  me  a  bountiful 
meal. 

It  was  here  arranged  between  myself  and  an  old  friend 
—  a  newspaper  correspondent  who  had  recently  married, 
and  whose  wife  awaited  him  at  Willard's  in  Washington  — 
that  he  should  proceed  at  once  to  New  York  with  the  out- 
line of  the  fight,  and  that  I  should  follow  him  next  day 
(having,  indeed,  to  report  for  duty  and  fresh  orders  at 

(266) 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  267 

Head-quarters  of  the  army  in  Washington,)  with  particulars 
and  the  lists  of  killed.  I  commenced  my  part  of  the  labors 
at  once,  employing  three  persons  to  assist  me,  and  we  dis- 
tricted Culpepper,  so  that  no  one  should  interfere  with  the 
grounds  of  the  other.  My  own  part  of  the  work  embraced 
both  hotel-hospitals,  the  names  and  statements  of  the  prison- 
ers of  the  Court  House  loft,  and  interviews  with  some  of  the 
generals  and  colonels  who  lay  at  various  private  residences. 
The  business  was  not  a  desirable  one  ;  for  hot  hospital  rooms 
were  now  absolutely  reeking,  and  many  of  the  victims  were 
asleep.  It  would  be  inhuman  to  awaken  these  ;  but  in 
many  cases  those  adjacent  knew  nothing,  and  with  all  as- 
siduity the  rolls  must  be  imperfect.  I  found  one  man  who 
had  undergone  a  sort  of  mental  paralysis  and  could  not  tell 
me  his  own  name.  However,  I  groped  through  the  several 
chambers  where  the  bleeding  littered  the  bare  floors.  Some 
of  them  were  eating  voraciously,  and  buckets  of  ice-water 
were  being  carried  to  and  fro  that  all  might  drink.  Some 
male  nurses  were  fanning  the  sleeping  people  with  boughs 
of  cedar  ;  but  the  flies  filled  the  ceiling,  and,  attracted  by 
the  wounds,  they  kept  up  a  constant  buzzing.  I  imagined 
that  mortification  would  rapidly  ensue  in  this  broiling  at- 
mosphere. A  couple  of  trains  were  being  prepared  below, 
to  transport  the  sufferers  to  Washington,  and  from  time  to 
time  individuals  were  carried  into  the  air  and  deposited  in 
common  freight-cars  upon  the  hard  floors.  Here  they  were 
compelled  to  wait  till  late  in  the  evening,  for  no  trains  were 
allowed  to  leave  the  village  during  the  day.  At  the  Vir- 
ginia Hotel,  I  visited,  among  others,  the  room  in  which  I 
had  lodged  when  I  first  came  to  Culpepper.  Eight  persons 
now  occupied  it,  and  three  of  them  lay  across  the  bed.  I 
took  the  first  man's  name,  and  as  the  man  next  to  him 
seemed  to  be  asleep,  I  asked  the  first  man  to  nudge  him 
gently. 

"  I  don't  think  he  is  alive,"  said  the  man  ;    "  he  hasn't 
moved  since  midnight.     I've  spoken  to  him  already." 


268  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

I  pulled  a  blanket  from  the  head  of  the  figure,  and  the 
tangled  hair,  yellow  skin,  and  stiffened  jaw  told  all  the 
story.  The  other  man  looked  uneasily  into  the  face  of  the 
corpse  and  then  lay  down  with  his  back  toward  it. 

"  I  hope  they'll  take  it  out,"  said  he,  "  I  don't  want  to 
sleep  beside  it  another  night." 

The  guard  at  the  Court  House  allowed  me  to  ascend  to 
the  loft,  and  the  prisoners — forty  or  fifty  in  number  — 
clustered  around  me.  They  had  received,  a  short  time  be- 
fore, their  day's  allotment  of  crackers  and  bread,  and  some 
of  them  were  sitting  iu  the  cupola,  with  their  bare  legs 
hanging  over  the  rails.  They  were  anxious  to  have  their 
names  printed,  and  I  learned  from  the  less  cautious  the 
names  of  the  brigades  to  which  they  belonged.  Before  I  left 
the  room  I  had  obtained  the  number  of  regiments  in  Jack- 
son's command  and  the  names  of  his  brigadier-generals. 
Some  prisoners  arrived  while  I  was  noting  these  matters. 
They  had  been  sent  to  pick  up  arms,  canteens,  cartridge- 
boxes,  etc.,  from  the  battle-field,  and  some  of  our  cavalry 
had  ridden  them  down  and  captured  them.  They  were  a 
little  discomposed,  but  said,  for  the  most  part,  that  they 
were  weary  of  the  war  and  glad  to  be  in  custody.  As  a 
rule,  Northern  and  Southern  troops  have  the  same  general 
manners  and  appearances.  These  were  more  ragged  than 
any  Federals  I  had  ever  known,  and  their  appetites  were 
voracious. 

I  found  General  Geary,  a  Pennsylvania  brigade  Com- 
mander, in  the  dwelling  of  a  lady  near  the  end  of -the  town. 
He  had  received  a  bullet  in  the  arm,  and,  I  believe,  submit- 
ted to  amputation  afterward.  He  was  a  tall,  athletic  man, 
ards  of  six  feet  in  height,  and  a  citizen  of  one  of  the 
mountainous  interior  counties  of  the  Quaker  State.  His  life 
had  been  marked  by  much  adventure,  and  he  had  been 
elevated  to  many  important  civil  positions  in  various  quar- 
ters of  the  Republic.  He  occupied  a  leading  place  in  the 
Mexican  war,  and  was  afterward  Mayor  of  San  Francisco 


CAMPAIUJSS    OF    A    AON— COMBATANT.  ZOVJ 

and  Governor  of  Kansas.  He  acted  with  the  Southern  wing 
of  the  Democratic  party,  and  was  discreetly  ambitious,  pro- 
moting the  agricultural  interests  of  his  commonwealth,  and 
otherwise  fulfilling  useful  civil  functions.  He  was  a  fine 
exemplar  of  the  American  gentleman,  preserving  the  better 
individualities  of  his  countrymen,  but  discarding  those 
grosser  traits,  which  have  given  us  an  unenviable  name 
abroad.  Geary  could  not  do  a  mean  thing,  and  his  courage 
came  so  naturally  to  him  that  he  did  not  consider  it  any 
cause  of  pride.  The  bias  of  party,  which  in  America  dis- 
eases the  best  natures,  had  in  some  degree  affected  the 
General.  He  was  prone  to  go  with  his  party  in  any  event, 
when  often,  I  think,  his  fine  intelligence  would  have 
promped  him  to  an  independent  course.  But  I  wish  that  all 
our  leading  men  possessed  his  manliness,  for  then  more  dig- 
nity and  self-respect,  and  less  "  smartness,"  might  be  ap- 
parent in  our  social  and  political  organizations. 

He  was  lying  on  his  back,  with  his  shattered  arm  band- 
aged, and  resting  on  his  breast.  Twitches  of  keen  pain 
shot  across  his  face  now  and  then,  but  he  received  me  with 
a  simple  courtesy  that  made  his  patience  thrice  heroic.  He 
did  not  speak  of  himself  or  his  services,  though  I  knew  both 
to  be  eminent ;  but  McDowell  had  insulted  him,  as  he  rode 
disabled  from  the  field,  and  Geary  felt  the  sting  of  the  word 
more  than  the  bullet.  He  had  ventured  to  say  to  McDowell 
that  the  Eeserves  were  badly  needed  in  front,  and  the 
proud  "  Regular"  had  answered  the  officious  "Volunteer," 
to  the  effect  that  he  knew  his  own  business.  Not  the  least 
among  the  causes  of  the  North's  inefficiency  will  be  found 
this  ill  feeling  between  the  professional  and  the  civil  soldiery. 
A  Regular  contemns  a  Volunteer ;  a  Volunteer  hates  a 
Regular.  I  visited  General  Augur  —  badly  wounded  —  in 
the  drawing-room  of  the  hotel,  and  paused  a  moment  to 
watch  Colonel  Donnelly,  mortally  wounded,  lying  on  a 
spread  in  the  hall.  The  latter  lingered  a  day  in  fearful 
agony  ;  but  he  was  a  powerful  man  in  physique,  and  he 
23* 


270  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NOX-COMBATANT. 

fought  with  death  through  a  bloody  sweat,  never  moaning 
nor  complaining,  till  he  fell  into  a  blessed  torpidity,  and  so 
yielded  up  his  soul.  The  shady  little  town  was  a  sort  of 
Golgotha  now.  Feverish  eyes  began  to  burn  into  one's 
heart,  as  he  passed  along  the  sidewalks.  Red  hospital  flags, 
hung  like  regalia  from  half  the  houses.  A  table  for  ampu- 
tations was  set  up  in  the  open  air,  and  nakedness  glared 
hideously  upon  the  sun.  How  often  have  they  brought  out 
corpses  in  plain  boxes  of  pine,  and  shut  them  away  without 
sign,  or  ceremony,  or  tears,  driving  a  long  stake  above  the 
headboard.  The  ambulances  came  and  went,  till  the  line 
seemed  stretching  to  the  crack  of  doom  ;  while,  as  in  con- 
templation of  further  murder,  the  white-covered  ammunition- 
teams  creaked  southward,  and  mounted  Provosts  charged 
upon  the  skulkers,  driving  them  to  a  pen,  whence  they  were 
forwarded  to  their  regiments.  Old  Mr.  Paine,  the  landlord, 
tottered  up  to  me,  with  a  tear  in  his  eye,  and  said  — 
"  My  good  Lord,  sir  !  Who  is  responsible  for  this  ?  " 
He  did  not  mean  to  suggest  argument.  It  was  the  lan- 
guage of  a  human  heart  pitying  its  brotherhood. 

At  twelve  o'clock  I  started  anew  for  the  field,  and  fell  in 
with  Captain  Chitty  on  the  way.  He  stated  that  his  cour- 
age during  the  fight  surpassed  his  most  heroic  expectations, 
and  added,  in  an  undertone,  that  he  was  deliberating  as  to 
whether  he  should  allow  his  name  to  be  mentioned  officially, 
since  several  military  men  were  urging  that  honor  upon  him. 
I  dissuaded  Chitty  from  this  intent,  upon  the  ground  that 
his  reputation  for  modesty  might  be  sacrificed.  Chitty  at 
once  said  that  he  would  take  my  advice.  We  encountered 
Surgeon  Ball,  of  Ohio,  after  a  time,  and  he  informed  us  that 
a  day's  armistice  had  been  agreed  upon,  to  allow  for  the 
burial  of  the  dead.  The  work  of  interment  was  already 
commenced  in  front,  and  the  surgeon  had  been  ordered  to 
see  to  the  wounded,  some  of  whom  still  lay  on  the  places 
where  they  fell.  He  allowed  us  to  accompany  him  in  the 
capacity  of  cade  ';s,  but  we  first  diverged  a  little  from  the 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NON-COMBATANT.  271 

road,  that  he  might  obtain  his  portmanteau  of  instruments. 
I  fell  into  a  little  difficulty  here,  by  unwittingly  asking 
aloud  of  the  28th  Pennsylvania  regiment,  if  that  was  not 
the  organization  which  hid  itself  during  the  fight  ?  The 
28th  had  been  ordered,  on  the  morning  of  Saturday,  to  oc- 
cupy Telegraph  Mountain,  —  an  elevation  in  the  rear  of 
Cedar  Mountain,  —  which  was  used  for  a  Federal  signal- 
post.  Nobody  having  notified  the  28th  to  return  to  camp, 
they  remained  on  the  mountain,  passively  witnessing  the 
carnage,  and  came  away  in  the  night.  But  although  my 
remark  was  jestingly  said,  the  knot  of  soldiers  who  heard 
it  were  intensely  excited.  They  spoke  of  taking  me  "  off 
that  hoss,"  and  called  me  a  New  York  "  Snob,"  who 
"  wanted  his  head  punched."  This  irate  feeling  may  be 
attributed  to  the  rivalry  which  exists  between  the  "  Em- 
pire "  and  the  "  Keystone  "  States,  the  latter  being  very 
jealous  of  the  former,  and  claiming  to  have  sent  more  troops 
to  the  war  than  any  other  commonwealth.  The  28th  volun- 
teers doubtless  expected  a  terrific  onslaught  from  the  next 
issue  of  the  Philadelphia  papers. 

The  reserve,  which  had  lain  some  miles  in  the  rear  the 
previous  evening,  were  now  massed  close  to  the  field,  but 
in  the  woods,  that  the  enemy  might  not  count  their  num- 
bers from  his  high  position.  Stopping  at  times  to  chat  with 
brother  officers,  at  last  I  reached  the  meadow  whence  I  had 
been  driven  the  previous  evening.  I  looked  for  my  nag  in 
vain.  One  soldier  told  me  that  he  had  seen  him  at  daylight 
limping  along  the  high  road  ;  but  after  sundry  wild-goose 
chases,  I  gave  up  the  idea  of  recovering  him. 

At  last  I  passed  the  outlying  batteries,  with  their  black 
muzzles  scanning  the  battle-ground,  and  ascending  the  clo- 
ver field,  came  upon  the  site  of  the  battery  which  had  so 
discomfited  us  the  previous  night.  A  signal  vengeance 
had  overtaken  it.  Some  splinters  of  wheel  and  an  over- 
turned caisson,  with  eight  horses  lying  in  a  group,  —  their 
hoofs  extended  like  index  boards,  their  necks  elongated 


272  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

along  the  ground,  and  their  bodies  swollen  —  were  the  re- 
sults of  a  single  shell  trained  upon  the  battery  by  a  cool 
artillerist.     Beyond,  the  road  and  fields  were  strown  with 
knapsacks,  haversacks,  jackets,  canteens,  cartridge-boxes, 
shoes,  bayonets^,  knives,  buttons,  belts,  blankets,  girths,  and 
sabres.     Now  and  then  a  mule  or  a  horse  lay  at  the  road- 
side, with  the  clay  saturated  beneath  him  ;  and  some  of  the 
tree-tops,  in  the  depth  of  the  woods,  were  scarred,  split, 
and  barked,  as  if  the  lightning  had  blasted  them.     Now 
passing  a  disabled  wagon,  now  marking  a  dropped  horse- 
shoe, now  turning  a  capsized  ambulance,  now  regarding  a 
perfect  wilderness  of  old  clothes,  we  emerged  from  the  tim- 
ber at  last,  and  came  to  the  place  where  I  had  slept  on  the 
eve  of  the  battle.     A  hurricane  had  apparently  swept  the 
country  here,  and  the  fences  had  been  transported  bodily. 
Sometimes  the  ground  looked,  for  limited  areas,  as  if  there 
had  been  a  rain  of  kindling-wood  ;  and  there  were  furrows 
in  the  clay,  like  those  made  by  some  great  mole  which  had 
ploughed  into  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  •  All  the  tree  boles 
were  pierced  and  perforated,  and  boughs  had  been  severed 
so  that  they  littered  the  way.     Cedar  Creek  ran  merrily 
across  what  had  been  the  road,  —  the  waters  limpid  and  cool 
as  before,  —  and  when  I  passed  beyond,  I  entered  the  region 
of  dead  men.     Some  poisonous  Upas  had  seemingly  grown 
here,  so  that  adventurers  were  prostrated  by  its  exhalations. 
A  tributary  rivulet  formed  with  the  creek  a  triangular  en- 
closure of  ground,  where  most  of  the  Federals  had  fallen. 
To  the  left  of  the  road  stood  a  cornfield  ;  to  the  right  a 
stubble-field,  dotted  with  stone  heaps  :  deep  woods  formed 
the  background  to  these,  and  scrub-timber,  irregularly  dis- 
posed, the  foreground.     On  the  right  of  the  stubble  lay  a 
great  stretch  of  "barren,"  spotted  with  dwarf  cedars,  and 
on  the  left  of  the  cornfield  stood  a  white  farm-house,  with 
orchards  and  outbuildings  ;  beyond,  the  creek  had  hollowed 
a  ravine  among  the  hills,  and  the  far  distance  was  bounded 
by  the  mountains  on  the  Rapidan.     In  the  immediate  front, 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  273 

towered  Cedar  Mountain,  with  woods  at  its  base  ;  and  the 
roadway  in  which  I  stood,  lost  itself  a  little  way  on  in  the 
mazes  of  the  thicket.  Looking  down  one  of  the  rows  of 
corn,  I  saw  the  first  corpse  —  the  hands  flung  stiffly  back, 
the  feet  set  stubbornly,  the  chin  pointing  upward,  the  fea- 
tures losing  their  sharpness,  the  skin  blackening,  the  eyes 
great  and  white  — 

"  A  heap  of  death  —  a  chaos  of  cold  clay." 

Turning  into  the  cornfield,  we  came  upon  one  man  with  a 
spade,  and  another  man  lying  at  his  feet.  He  was  digging 
a  grave,  and  when  we  paused  to  note  the  operation,  he 
touched  his  cap  :  — 

"Pardner  o'  mine/'  he  said,  indicating  the  body  ;  "him 
and  I  fit  side  by  side,  and  we  agreed,  if  it  could  be  done, 
to  bury  each  other.  There  ain't  no  sich  man  as  that  lost 
out  o''the  army,  private  or  officer, — with  all  respect  to 
you." 

It  was  a  eulogy  that  sounded  as  if  more  deserved,  be- 
cause it  was  homely.  There  are  some  that  I  have  read, 
much  finer,  but  not  as  honest.  At  little  distances  we  saw 
parties  of  ten  or  twenty,  opening  trenches,  the  tributary 
brook,  only,  dividing  the  Confederate  and  Federal  fatigue 
parties.  Close  to  this  brook,  in  the  cornfield,  lay  a  fallen 
trunk  of  a  tree,  and  four  men  sat  upon  it.  Two  of  them 
wore  gray  uniforms,  two  wore  blue.  The  latter  were  Gens. 
Roberts  and  Hartsuff  of  the  Federal  army.  They  were 
waiting  for  Gens.  Stuart  and  Early,  of  the  Confederate 
army  :  and  the  four  were  to  define  the  period  of  the  armis- 
tice. The  men  in  gray  were  Major  Hintham  of  Mississippi, 
and  Lieut.  Elliott  Johnston  of  Maryland.  Hintham  was  a 
lean,  fiery,  familiar  man,  who  wore  the  uniform  of  several 
field-marshals.  An  ostrich  feather  was  stuck  in  his  soft  hat 
and  clasped  by  a  silver  star  upon  a  black  velvet  ground.  A 
golden  cord  formed  his  hat-band,  and  two  tassels,  as  huge 
as  those  of  drawing-room  curtains,  fell  upon  his  back.  His 


274  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NOX-COMBATAXT. 

collar  was  plentifully  embroidered  as  well  as  his  coat- 
sleeves,  and  a  black  seam  ran  down  his  trousers.  He  wore 
spurs  of  prodigious  size,  and  looked,  in  the  main,  like  a  tra- 
gedian about  to  appear  upon  the  stage.  The  other  man 
was  young,  stout,  and  good  humored  ;  and  he  talked  sen- 
tentiously,  with  a  little  vanity,  but  much  courtesy.  The 
Federals  had  nothing  to  say  to  these,  they  dealt  only  with 
equals  in  rank.  It  became  a  matter  of  professional  ambi- 
tion, now,  to  obtain  the  greatest  amount  of  information 
from  these  Confederates,  without  appearing  to  depart  from 
any  conventionality  of  the  armistice.  I  got  along  very  well 
till  Chitty  came  up,  and  his  interrogatives  were  so  pert  and 
pointed  that  he  very  nearly  spoiled  the  entire  labor.  Young 
Johnston  was  a  Baltimorean,  and  wished  his  people  to  know 
something  of  him ;  he  gave  me  a  card,  stated  that  he  was 
one  of  Gen.  Garnett's  aids,  and  had  opened  the  armistice, 
early  in  the  day,  by  riding  into  the  Federal  lines  with  a  flag 
of  truce.  By  detachments,  new  bodies  of  Confederate  offi- 
cers joined  us,  most  of  them  being  young  fellows  in  gray 
suits  :  and  at  length  Gen.  Early  rode  down  the  hillside  and 
nodded  his  head  to  our  party. 

It  was  the  custom. of  our  newspapers  to  publish,  with  its 
narrative  of  each  battle,  a  plan  of  the  field  ;  and  in  further- 
ance of  this  object,  having  agreed  to  act  for  my  absent 
friend,  I  moved  a  little  way  from  the  place  of  parley,  and 
laying  my  paper  on  the  pommel  of  my  saddle  proceeded  to 
sketch  the  relative  positions  of  road,  brook,  mountain,  and 
woodland.  While  thus  busily  engaged,  and  congratulating 
myself  upon  the  fine  opportunities  afforded  me,  a  lithe,  in- 
durated, severe-looking  horseman  rode  down  the  hill,  and 
reining  beside  me,  said  — 

"Are  you  making  a  sketch  of  our  position  ?  " 

"  Not  for  any  military  purpose." 

"For  what?" 

"  For  a  newspaper  engraving." 

"Umph!" 


CAMPAIGNS   OP   A   NON-COMBATANT.  275 

The  man  rode  past  me  to  the  log,  and  when  I  had  finished 
my  transcript,  I  resumed  my  place  at  the  group.  The  new 
comer  was  Major  General  J.  E.  B.  Stuart,  one  of  the  most  fa- 
mous cavalry  leaders  in  the  Confederate  army.  He  was 
inquiring1  for  General  Hartsuff,  with  whom  he  had  been 
a  fellow-cadet  at  West  Point ;  but  the  Federal  General  had 
strolled  off',  and  in  the  interval  Stuart  entered  into  familiar 
converse  with  the  party.  He  described  the  Confederate 
uniform  to  me,  and  laughed  over  some  reminiscences  of  his 
raid  around  McClellan's  army. 

"  That  performance  gave  me  a  Major-General cy,  and  my 
saddle  cloth  there,  was  sent  from  Baltimore  as  a  reward,  by 
a  lady  whom  I  never  knew." 

Stuart  exhibited  what  is  known  in  America  as  "  airi- 
ness," and  evidently  loved  to  talk  of  his  prowess.  Directly 
Gen.  Hartsuff  returned,  and  the  forager  rose,  with  a  grim 
smile  about  his  mouth  — 

"  Hartsuff,  God  bless  you,  how-de-do  ?  " 

"  Stuart,  how  are  you  ?  " 

They  took  a  quiet  turn  together,  speaking  of  old  school- 
days, perhaps ;  and  when  they  came  back  to  the  log,  Sur- 
geon Ball  produced  a  bottle  of  whiskey,  out  of  which  all  the 
Generals  drank,  wishing  each  other  an  early  peace. 

"  Here's  hoping  you  may  fall  into  our  hands,"  said 
Stuart ;  "  we'll  treat  you  well  at  Eichmond  ! ' 

"  The  same  to  you  ! "  said  Hartsuff,  and  they  all  laughed. 

It  was  a  strange  scene, —  this  lull  in  the  hurricane.  Early 
was  a  North  Carolinian,  who  lost  nearly  his  whole  brigade 
at  Williamsburg.  He  wore  a  single  star  upon  each  shoul- 
der, and  in  other  respects  resembled  a  homely  farmer.  He 
kept  upon  his  horse,  and  had  little  to  say.  Crawford  was 
gray  and  mistrustful,  calmly  measuring  Stuart  with  his  eye, 
as  if  he  intended  to  challenge  him  in  a  few  minutes.  Hart- 
suff was  fair  and  burly,  with  a  boyish  face,  and  seemed  a 
little  ill  at  ease.  Stuart  sat  upon  a  log,  in  careless  posture, 
working  his  jaw  till  the  sandy  gray  beard  brushed  his  chin 
and  became  twisted  in  his  teeth.  Around,  on  foot  and  on 


276  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

horse,  lounged  idle  officers  of  both  armies  ;  and  the  little 
rill  that  trickled  behind  us  was  choked  in  places  with 
corpses.  A  pleasanter  meeting  could  not  have  been  held, 
if  this  were  a  county  training.  The  Surgeon  told  Gen. 
Stuart  that  some  of  his  relatives  lived  near  the  Confederate 
Capital,  and  as  the  General  knew  them,  he  related  trifling 
occurrences  happening  in  their  neighborhoods,  so  that  the 
meeting  took  the  form  of  a  roadside  gossip,  and  Stuart 
might  have  been  a^lain  farmer  jaunting  home  from  market. 
The  General,  who  was  called  "  JEB  ;;  by  his  associates,  so 
far  relented  finally  as  to  give  me  leave  to  ride  within  the 
Confederate  outer  lines,  arid  Lieut.  Johnson  accompanied 
me.  The  corpses  lay  at  frequent  points,  and  some  of  the 
wounded  who  had  not  been  gathered  up,  remained  at  the 
spots  where  they  had  fallen.  One  of  these,  whose  leg  had 
been  broken,  was  incapable  of  speaking,  and  could  hardly 
be  distinguished  from  the  lifeless  shapes  around  him.  The 
number  of  those  who  had  received  their  death  wound  on  the 
edge  of  the  brook,  while  in  the  act  of  leaping  across  was  very 
great.  I  fancied  that  their  faces  retained  the  mingled  ardor 
and  agony  of  the  endeavor  and  the  pang.  There  seemed  to 
be  no  system  in  the  manner  of  interment,  and  many  of  the 
Federals  had  thrown  down  their  shovels,  and  strolled  across 
the  boundary,  to  chaff  and  loiter  with  the  "Butternuts." 
No  one,  whom  I  saw,  exhibited  any  emotion  at  the  strewn 
spectacles  on  every  side,  and  the  stories  I  had  read  of  the 
stony-heartedness  during  the  plague,  were  more  than 
rivalled  by  these  charnel  realities.  Already  corruption  was 
violating  the  "  temples  of  the  living  God."  The  heat  of  the 
day  and  the  general  demoralizing  influences  of  the  climate, 
were  making  havoc  with  the  shapely  men  of  yesterday,  and 
nature  seemed  hastening  to  reabsorb,  and  renew  by  her 
marvellous  processes,  what  was  now  blistering  and  bur- 
dening her  surface.  Enough,  however,  of  this.  Satiated 
with  the  scenes  of  war,  my  ambition  now  was  to  extend  my 
observations  to  the  kingdoms  of  the  Old  World. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

OUR  OWN  CORRESPONDENT  IN  ENGLAND. 

THE  boy's  vague  dream  of  foreign  adventure  had  passed 
away  ;  ray  purpose  was  of  a  tamer  and  more  practical  cast ; 
it  was  resolved  to  this  problem:  "How  could  I  travel 
abroad  and  pay  my  expenses  ?  " 

Evidently  no  money  could  be  made  by  home  correspond- 
ence. The  new  order  of  journals  had  no  charity  for  fine 
moral  descriptions  of  church  steeples,  ruined  castles,  and 
picture  galleries  ;  I  knew  too  little  of  foreign  politics  to  give 
the  Republic  its  semi-weekly  "  sensation  ;  "  and  exchange 
was  too  high  at  the  depreciated  value  of  currency  to  yield 
me  even  a  tolerable  reward.  But  might  I  not  reverse  the 
policy  of  the  peripatetics,  and,  instead  of  turning  my 
European  experiences  into  American  gold,  make  my  knowl- 
edge of  America  a  bill  of  credit  for  England  ? 

What  capital  had  I  for  this  essay  ?  I  was  twenty-one 
years  of  age  ;  the  last  three  years  of  my  minority  had  been 
passed  among  the*  newspapers  ;  I  knew  indifferently  well 
the  distribution  of  parties,  the  theory  of  the  Government, 
the  personalities  of  public  men,  the  causes  of  the  great  civil 
strife.  And  I  had  mounted  to  my  saddle  in  the  beginning 
of  the  war,  and  followed  the  armies  of  McClellan  and  Pope 
over  their  sanguinary  battle-fields.  The  possibility  thrilled 
me  like  a  novel  discovery,  that  the  Old  World  might  be 
willing  to  hear  of  the  New,  as  I  could  depict  it,  fresh  from 
the  theatre  of  action.  At  great  expense  foreign  correspond- 
24  (277) 


278  CAMPAIGNS   OF    A    NOX-CO3IBATAXT. 

ents  had  been  sent  to  our  shores,  whose  ignorance  and  con- 
fidence had  led  them  into  egregious  blunders ;  for  their 
travelling  outlay  merely,  I  would  have  guaranteed  thrice 
the  information,  and  my  sanguine  conceit  half  persuaded  me 
that  I  could  present  it  as  acceptably.  I  did  not  wait  to 
ponder  upon  this  suggestion.  The  guns  of  the  second 
action  of  Bull  Run  growled  a  farewell  to  me  as  I  resigned 
my  horse  and  equipments  to  a  successor.  With  a  trifle  of 
money,  I  took  passage  on  a  steamer,  and  landed  at  Liver- 
pool on  the  first  of  October,  1862. 

Among  my  acquaintances  upon  the  ship  was  a  semi- 
literary  adventurer  from  New  England.  I  surmised  that  his 
funds  were  not  more  considerable  than  my  own  ;  and 
indeed,  when  he  comprehended  my  plans,  he  confessed  as 
much,  and  proposed  to  join  enterprises  with  me. 

"  Did  you  ever  make  a  public  lecture  ?  "  he  asked. 

Now  I  had  certain  blushing  recollections  of  having  enter- 
tained a  suburban  congregation,  long  before,  with  didactic 
critiques  upon  Byron,  Keats,  and  the  popular  poets.  I  re- 
plied, therefore,  misgivingly,  in  the  affirmative,  and  Hipp, 
the  interrogator,  exclaimed  at  once  — 

"  Let  us  make  a  lecturing  tour  in  England,  and  divide  the 
expenses  and  the  work  ;  you  will  describe  the  war,  and  I 
will  act  as  your  .agent." 

With  true  Yankee  persistence  Hipp  developed  his  idea, 
and  I  consented  to  try  the  experiment,  though  with  grave 
scruples.  It  would  require  much  nerve  to  talk  to  strange 
people  upon  an  excitable  topic  ;  and  a  camp  fever,  wlfich 
among  other  things  I  had  gained  on  the  uhickahominy,  had 
enfeebled  me  to  the  last  degree. 

However,  I  went  to  work  at  once,  inditing  the  pages  in  a 
snug  parlor  of  a  modest  Liverpool  inn,  while  Hipp  sounded 
the  patrons  and  landlord  as  to  the  probable  success  of  our 
adventure.  Opinions  differed  ;  public  lectures  in  the  Old 
World  had  been  generally  gratuitous,  except  in  rare  cases, 
but  the  genial  Irish  proprietor  of  the  Post  advised  me  to  go 
on  without  hesitation. 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A  'NON-COMBATANT.  279 

We  selected  for  the  initial  night  a  Lancashire  sea-side 
town,  a  summer  resort  for  the  people  of  Liverpool,  and 
filled  at  that  time  with  invalids  and  pleasure-seekers.  Hipp, 
who  was  a  sort  of  American  Crichton,  managed  the  business 
details  with  consummate  tact.  I  was  announced  as  the 
eye-witness  and  participator  of  a  hundred  actions,  fresh 
from  the  bloodiest  fields  and  still  smelling  of  saltpetre.  My 
horse  had  been  shot  as  I  carried  a  General's  orders  under 
the  fire  of  a  score  of  batteries,  and  I  was  connected  with 
journals  whose  reputations  were  world-wide.  Disease  had 
compelled  me  to  forsake  the  scenes  of  my  heroism,  and  I  had 
consented  to  enlighten  the  Lancashire  public,  through  the 
solicitation  of  the  nobility  and  gentry.  Some  of  the  latter 
had  indeed  honored  the  affair  with  their  patronage. 

We  secured  the  three  village  newspapers  by  writing  them 
descriptive  letters.  The  parish  rector  and  the  dissenting 
preachers  were  waited  upon  and  presented  with  family 
tickets  ;  while  we  placarded  the  town  till  it  was  scarcely 
recognizable  to  the  oldest  inhabitant. 

On  the  morning  of  the  eventful  day  I  arrived  in  the  place. 
The  best  room  of  the* best  inn  had  been  engaged  for  me, 
and  waiters  in  white  aprons,  standing  in  rows,  bowed  me 
over  the  portal.  The  servant  girls  and  gos'sips  had  fugitive 
peeps  at  me  through  the  cracks  of  my  door,  and  I  felt  for 
the  first  time  all  the  oppressiveness  of  greatness.  As  I 
walked  on  the  quay  where  the  crowds  were  strolling,  look- 
ing out  upon  the  misty  sea,  at  the  donkeys  on  the  beach, 
and  at  the  fishing-smacks  huddled  under  the  far-reaching- 
pier,  I  saw  my  name  in  huge  letters  borne  on  the  banner  of 
a  bill-poster,  and  all  the  people  stopping  to  read  as  they 
wound  in  and  out  among  them. 

How  few  thought  the  thin,  sallow  young  man,  in  wide 
breeches  and  square-toed  boots,  who  shambled  by  them  so 
shamefacedly,  to  be  the  veritable  Mentor  who  had  crossed 
the  ocean  for  their  benefit.  Indeed,  the  embarrassing 
responsibility  I  had  assumed  now  appeared  to  me  in  all  its 
vividness. 


280  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NOX-CGMBATANT. 

My  confidence  sensibly  declined ;  my  sensitiveness 
amounted  to  nervousness  ;  1  had  half  a  mind  to  run  away 
and  leave  the  show  entirely  to  Hipp.  But  when  I  saw  that 
child  of  the  Mayflower  stolidly,  shrewdly  going  about  his 
business,  working  the  wires  like  an  old  operator,  making 
the  largest  amount  of  thunder  from  so  small  a  cloud,  I  was 
rebuked' of  my  faintheartedness.  In  truth,  not  the  least  of 
my  misgivings  was  Hipp's  extraordinary  zeal.  He  gave 
the  townsmen  to  understand  that  I  was  a  prodigy  of  ora- 
tory, whose  battle-sketches  would  harrow  up  their  souls 
and  thrill  them  like  a  martial  summons.  It  brought  the 
blush  to  my  face  to  see  him  talking  to  knots  of  old  men 
after  the  fashion  oj  a  town  crier  at  a  puppet-booth,  and  I 
wondered  whether  I  occupied  a  more  reputable  rank,  after 
all,  than  a  strolling  gymnast,  giant,  or  dwarf. 

As  the  twilight  came  on  my  position  became  ludicrously 
unenviable.  The  lights  in  the  town-hall  were  lit.  I  passed 
pallidly  twice  or  thrice,  and  would  have  given  half  my  for- 
tune if  the  whole  thing  had  been  over.  But  the  minutes 
went  on  ;  the  interval  diminished;  I  faced  the  crisis  at  last 
and  entered  the  arena. 

There  sat  Hipp,  taking  money  at  the  head  of  the  stairs, 
with  piles  of  tickets  before  him ;  and  as  he  rose,  gravely 
respectful,  the  janitor  and  some  loiterers  took  off  their  hats 
while  I  passed.  I  entered  the  little  bare  dressing-room ; 
my  throat  was  parched  as  fever,  my^hands  were  hot  and 
tremulous ;  I  felt  my  heart  sag.  How  the  rumble  of  ex- 
pectant feet  in  the  audience-room  shook  me !  I  called  my- 
self a  poltroon,  and  fingered  my  neck-tie,  and  smoothed  my 
hair  before  the  mirror.  Another  burst  of  impatient  expec- 
tation made  me  start ;  I  opened  the  door,  and  stood  before 
my  destiny. 

The  place  was  about  one  third  filled  with  a  representative 
English  audience,  the  males  preponderating  in  number. 
They  watched  me  intently  as  1  mounted  the  steps  of  the 
rostrum  and  arranged  my  port-folio  upon  a  musical  tripod ; 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NON-COMBATANT.  281 

then  I  seated  myself  for  a  moment,  and  tried  to  still  the 
beating  of  my  foolish  heart. 

How  strangely  acute  were  my  perceptions  of  everything 
before  me  !  I  looked  from  face  to  face  and  analyzed  the  ex- 
pressions, counted  the  lines  down  the  corduroy  pantaloons, 
measured  the  heavily-shod  English  feet,  numbered  the  rows 
of  benches  and  the  tubes  of  the  chandeliers,  and  figured  up 
the  losing  receipts  from  this  unremuneralive  audience. 

Then  I  rose,  coughed,  held  the  house  for  the  last  time  in 
severe  review,  and  repeated  — 

"LADIES  AND  GENTLEMEN — A  grand  contest  agitates 
America  and  the  world.  The  people  of  the  two  sections  of 
the  great  North  American  Republic,  having  progressed  in 
harmony  for  almost  a  century,  and  become  a  formidable 
power  among  the  nations,  are  now  divided  and  at  enmity ; 
they  have  consecrated  with  blood  their  fairest  fields,  and 
built  monuments  of  bones  in  their  most  beautiful  val- 
leys," etc. 

For  perhaps  five  minutes  everything  went  on  smoothly. 
I  was  pleased  with  the  clearness  of  my  voice  ;  then,  as  1  re- 
ferred to  the  origin  of  the  war,  and  denounced  the  traitorous 
conspiracy  to  disrupt  the  republic,  faint  mutterings  arose, 
amounting  to  interruptions  at  last.  The  sympathies  of  my 
audience  were,  in  the  main,  with  the  secession.  There  were 
cheers  and  counter  cheers  ;  storms  of  "  Hear,  hear,"  and 
"  No,  no/'  until  a  certain  youth,  in  a  sort  of  legal  monkey- 
jacket  and  with  ponderously  professional  gold  seals,  so  dis- 
tinguished himself  by  exclamations  that  I  singled  him  out 
as  a  mark  for  my  bitterest  periods. 

But  while  I  was  thus  the  main  actor  in  this  curious  scene, 
a  strange,  startling  consciousness  grew  apace  upon  me  ; 
the  room  was  growing  dark  ;  my  voice  replied  to  me  like  a 
far,  hollow  echo ;  I  knew  —  I  knew  that  I  was  losing  my 
consciousness  —  that  I  was  about  to  faint !  Words  cannot 
describe  my  humiliation  at  this  discovery.  I  set  my  lips 
hard  and  straightened  my  limbs ;  raised  my  voice  to  a 

24* 


282  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

shrill,  defiant  pitch,  and  struggled  ill  the  dimming  horror  to 
select  my  adversary  in  the  monkey-jacket  and  overwhelm 
him  with  bitter  apostrophes.  In  vain !  The  novelty,  the 
excitement,  the  enervation  of  that  long,  consuming  fever, 
mastered  my  overtaxed  physique.  I  knew  that,  if  I  did  not 
cease,  I  should  fall  senseless  to  the  floor.  Only  in  the  last 
bitter  instant  did  I  confess  my  disability  with  the  best  grace 
I  could  assume. 

"My  friends,"  I  said,  gaspingly,  "this  is  my  first  ap- 
pearance in  your  country,  and  I  am  but  just  convalescent ; 
my  head  is  a  little  weak.  Will  you  kindly  bear  with  me  a 
moment  while  the  janitor  gets  me  a  glass  of  water  ?  " 

A  hearty  burst  of  applause  took  the  sting  from  my  mor- 
tification. A  bald  old  gentleman  in  the  front  row  gravely 
rose  and  said,  "  Let  me  send  for  a  drop  of  brandy  for  our 
young  guest."  They  waited  patiently  and  kindly  till  my 
faintness  passed  away,  and  when  I  rose,  a  genuine  English 
cheer  shook  the  place. 

I  often  hear  it  again  when,  here  in  my  own  country,  I 
would  speak  bitterly  of  Englishmen,  and  it  softens  the 
harshness  of  my  condemnation. 

But  I  now  addressed  myself  feverishly  to  my  task,  and 
my  disgrace  made  me  vehement  and  combative.  I  glared 
upon  the  individual  in  the  monkey-jacket  as  if  he  had  been 
Mr.  Jefferson  Davis  himself,  and  read  him  a  scathing  indict- 
ment. The  man  in  the  monkey-jacket  was  not  to  be  scathed. 
He  retorted  more  frequently  than  before  ;  he  was  guilty  of 
the  most  hardy  contempt  of  court.  He  was  determined  not 
to  agree  with  me,  and  said  so. 

"  Sir,"  I  exclaimed  at  last,  "  pray  reserve  your  remarks 
till  the  end  of  the  lecture,  and  you  shall  have  the  plat- 
form." 

"  I  shall  be  quite  willing,  I  am  sure,"  said  the  man  in  the 
monkey-jacket  with  imperturbable  effrontery. 

Then,  as  I  continued,  the  contest  grew  interesting ;  ex- 
plosions of  "  No,  no,"  were  interrupted  with  volleys  of  "Ay, 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  283 

ay,"  from  my  adherents.  Hipp,  who  had  squared  accounts, 
made  all  the  applause  in  his  power,  standing  in  the  main 
threshold,  and  the  little  auditory  became  a  ringing  arena, 
where  we  fought  without  flinching,  standing  foot  to  foot 
and  drawing  fire  for  fire.  The  man  in  the  monkey-jacket 
broke  his  word  :  silence  was  not  his  forte ;  he  hurled  de- 
nials and  counter-charges  vociferously ;  he  was  full  of  gall 
and  bitterness,  and  when  I  closed  the  last  page  and 
resumed  my  chair,  he  sprang  from  his  place  to  claim  the 
platform. 

"  Stop,"  cried  Hipp,  in  his  hard  nasal  tone,  striding  for- 
ward ;  "  you  have  interrupted  the  lecturer  after  giving 
your  parole  ;  we  recall  our  promise,  as  you  have  not  stood 
by  yours.  Janitor,  put  out  the  lights  !  " 

The  bald  old  gentleman  quietly  rose.  "  In  England,"  he 
said,  "  we  give  everybody  fair  play  ;  tokens  of  assent  and 
dissent  are  commonly  made  in  all  our  public  meetings  ;  let 
us  have  a  hearing  for  our  townsman." 

"  Certainly,"  I  replied,  giving  him  my  hand  at  the  top  of 
the  stairs  ;  "  nothing  would  afford  me  more  pleasure." 

The  man  in  the  monkey-jacket  then  made  a  sweeping 
speech,  full  of  loose  charges  against  the  Americana,  and 
expressive  of  sympathy  with  the  Eebellion  ;  but,  at  the  fin- 
ishing, he  proposed,  as  the  sentiment  of  the  meeting,  a 
vote  of  thanks  to  me,  which  was  amended  by  another  to  in- 
clude himself.  Many  of  the  people  shook  hands  with  me 
at  the  door,  and  the  bald  old  gentleman  led  me  to  his  wife 
and  daughter,  whose  benignities  were  almost  parental. 

"  Poor  young  man !  "  said  the  old  lady  ;  "  a  must  take 
care  of  'is  'ealth ;  will  a  come  hoom  wi'  Tummas  and  me 
and  drink  a  bit  o'  tea  ?  " 

I  strolled  about  the  place  for  twenty-four  hours  on  good 
terms  with  many  townsmen,  while  Hipp,  full  of  pluck  and 
business,  was  posting  me  against  all  the  dead  walls  of  a 
farther  village.  Again  and  again  I  sketched  the  war-epi- 
sodes I  had  followed,  gaining  fluency  and  confidence  as  by 


284  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NON-COMBATANT. 

degrees  my  itinerant  profession  lost  its  novelty,  but  we  as 
steadily  lost  money.  The  bouses  were  invariably  bad  ;  we 
had  the  same  fiery  discussions  every  evening,  but  the  same 
meagre  receipts,  and  in  every  market  town  of  northwestern 
Lancashire  we  buried  a  portion  of  our  little  capital,  till  once, 
after  talking  myself  hoarse  to  a  respectable  audience  of 
empty  benches,  Hipp  and  I  looked  blankly  into  each  other's 
faces  and  silently  put  our  last  gold  pieces  upon  the  table. 
We  were  three  thousand  miles  from  home,  and  the  pos- 
sessors of  ten  sovereigns  apiece.  I  reached  out  my  hand 
with  a  pale  smile  :  — 

"  Old  fellow,"  I  said,  "  let  us  comfort  ourselves  by  the 
assurance  that  we  have  deserved  success.  The  time  has 
come  to  say  good  by." 

"  As  you  will,"  said  Hipp:  "it  is  all  the  fault  of  this 
pig-headed  nation.  Now  I  dare  say  if  we  had  brought  a 
panorama  of  the  war  along,  it  would  have  been  a  stunning 
success ;  but  standing  upon  high  literary  and  forensic 
ground,  of  course  they  can't  appreciate  us.  Confound 
'em!" 

I  think  that  Hipp  has  since  had  but  two  notions,  —  the 
exhibition  of  that  panorama,  or,  in  the  event  of  its  failure, 
a  declaration  of  war  against  the  British  people.  He  fol- 
lowed me  to  Liverpool,  and  bade  me  adieu  at  Birkenhead,  I 
going  Londonward  with  scarcely  enough  money  to  pay  my 
passage,  and  he  to  start  next  day  for  Belfast,  to  lecture 
upon  his  own  hook,  or,  failing  (as  he  afterward  did),  to  re- 
cross  the  Atlantic  in  the  steerage  of  a  ship. 

My  feelings,  as  the  train  bore  me  steadily  through  the 
Welsh  border,  by  the  clustering  smoke-stacks  of  Birming- 
ham, by  the  castled  tower  of  Warwick,  and  along  the  head 
waters  of  the  Thames  and  Avon,  were  not  of  the  most  en- 
thusiastic description.  I  had  no  money  and  no  friends  ;  I 
had  sent  to  America  for  a  remittance,  but  in  the  interval  of 
six  weeks  required  for  a  reply,  must  eat  and  drink  and 
lodge,  and  London  was  wide  and  pitiless,  even  if  I  dared 
stoop  to  beg  assistance. 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NOX-COMBATAXT.  285 

Let  no  young  man  be  tempted  to  put  the  sea  between  his 
home  and  himself,  how  seductive  soever  be  the  experiences 
of  book-makers  and  poetic  pedestrians.  One  hour's  con- 
templation of  poverty  in  foreign  lands  will  line  the  boy's 
face  with  the  wrinkles  of  years,  and  burn  into  his  soul  that 
withering  dependency  which  will  rankle  long  after  his  pri- 
vations are  forgotten. 

In  truth,  my  circumstances  were  so  awkward  that  my 
very  desperation  kept  me  calm.  I  had  a  formal  letter  to 
one  English  publisher/  but  not  any  friendly  line  whatever  to 
anybody  ;  and  as  the  possibilities  of  sickness,  debt,  ene- 
mies, came  to  mind,  I  felt  that  I  was  no  longer  the  hero  of 
a  romance,  but  face  to  face  with  a  hard,  practical,  terrible 
reality.  It  was  night  when  I  landed  at  the  Paddington 
Station,  and  taking  an  omnibus  for  Charing  Cross,  watched 
the  long  lines  of  lamps  on  Oxford  Street,  and  the  glitter  of 
the  Ilaymarket  theatres,  and  at  last  the  hard  plash  of 
the  fountains  in  Trafalgar  Square,  with  the  stony  statues 
grouped  so  rigidly  about  the  column  to  Nelson. 

I  walked  down  Strand  with  my  carpet-bag  in  my  hands, 
through  Fleet  Street  and  under  Temple  Bar,  till,  weary  at 
last  from  sheer  exercise,  I  dropped  into  a  little  ale-house 
under  a  great,  grinning  lantern,  which  said,  in  the  crisp  tone 
of  patronage,  the  one  word,  "beds."  They  put  me  under 
the  tiles,  with  the  chimney-stacks  for  my  neighbors,  and  I 
lay  awake  all  night  meditating  expedients  for  the  morrow  : 
so  far  from  regret  or  foreboding,  I  longed  for  the  daylight 
to  come  that  I  might  commence  my  task,  confident  that  I 
could  not  fail  where  so  many  had  succeeded.  They  were, 
indeed,  inspirations  which  looked  in  upon  me  at  the  dawn. 
The  dome  of  St.  Paul's  guarding  Paternoster  Row,  with 
Milton's  school  in  the  background,  and  hard  by  the  Play- 
er's Court,  where,  in  lieu  of  Shakespeare's  company,  the 
American  presses  of  the  Times  shook  the  kingdom  and  the 
continent.  I  thought  of  Johnson,  as  I  passed  Bolt  Alley, 
of  Chatterton  at  Shoe  Lane,  of  Goldsmith  as  I  put  my  foot 
upon  his  grave  under  the  eaves  of  the  Temple. 


280  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

The  public  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  sacrifices  by  which 
ray  private  embarrassment  received  temporary  relief. 
Though  half  the  race  of  authors  had  been  in  similar  straits, 
I  would  not,  for  all  their  success,  undergo  again  such  self- 
humiliation.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  I  obtained  lodgings 
in  Islington,  close  to  the  home  of  Charles  Lamb,  and  near 
Irving' s  Canterbury  tower  ;  and  that  between  writing  arti- 
cles on  the  American  war,  and  strategic  efforts  to  pay  my 
board,  two  weeks  of  feverish  loneliness  drifted  away. 

I  made  but  one  friend  ;  a  young  Englishman  of  radical 
proclivities,  who  had  passed  some  years  in  America  among 
books  and  newspapers,  and  was  now  editing  the  foreign 
column  of  the  Illustrated  London  News.  He  was  a  brave, 
needy  fellow,  full  of  heart,  but  burdened  with  a  wife  and 
children,  and  too  honestly  impolitic  to  gain  money  with  his 
fine  abilities  by  writing  down  his  own  unpopular  sentiments. 
He  helped  me  with  advice  and  otherwise. 

"  If  you  mean  to  work  for  the  journals,"  he  said,  "  I  fear 
you  will  be  disappointed.  I  have  tried  six  years  to  get 
upon  some  daily  London  paper.  The  editorial  positions  are 
always  filled  ;  you  know  too  little  of  the  geography  and  so- 
ciety of  the  town  to  be  a  reporter,  and  such  miscellaneous 
recollections  of  the  war  as  you  possess  will  not  be  available 
for  a  mere  newspaper.  But  the  magazines  are  always 
ready  to  purchase,  if  you  can  get  access  to  them.  In  that 
quarter  you  might  do  well." 

I  found  that  the  serials  to  which  my  friend  recommended 
me  shared  his  own  advanced  sentiments,  but  were  unfortu- 
nately without  money.  So  I  made  my  way  to  the  counter 
of  the  Messrs.  Chambers,  and  left  for  its  junior  partner  an 
introductory  note.  The  reply  was  to  this  effect.  I  violate 
no  confidence,  I  think,  in  reproducing  it :  — 

"  Sm,  —  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  any  friend  of ,  and  may  be 

found,"  etc.,  etc.     "  I  fear  that  articles  upon  the  American  war,  written 
by  an  American,  will  not,  however,  be  acceptable  in  this  journal,  as  the 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  287 

public  here  take  a  widely  different  view  of  the  contest  from  that  enter- 
tained in  your  own  country,  and  the  feeling  of  horror  is  deepening 
fast." 

Undeterred  by  this  frank  avowal,  I  waited  upon  the  pub- 
lisher at  the  appointed  time,  —  a  fine,  athletic,  white-haired 
Scotchman,  whose  name  is  known  where  that  of  greater 
authors  cannot  reach,  and  who  has  written  with  his  own 
hand  as  much  as  Dumas  pere.  He  met  me  with  warm 
cordiality,  rare  to  Englishmen,  and  when  I  said  — 

"  Sir,  I  do  not  wish  the  use  of  your  paper  to  circulate  my 
opinions,  —  only  my  experiences,"  he^eok  me  at  once  to 
his  editor,  and  gave  me  a  personal  introduction.  Fortu- 
nately I  had  brought  with  me  a  paper  which  I  submitted  on 
the'  spot ;  it  was  entitled,  "  Literature  of  the  American 
War,"  collated  from  such  campaign  'ballads  as  I  could 
remember,  eked  out  with  my  own,  and  strung  together  with 
explanatory  and  critical  paragraphs.  The  third  day  follow- 
ing, I  received  this  announcement  in  shockingly  bad  hand- 
writing :  — 

"  D'r  S'r, 

"  Y'r  article  will  suit  us. 

"Theed.  C.  J." 

For  every  word  in  this  communication,  I  afterward  ob- 
tained a  guinea.  The  money  not  being  due  till  after  the 
appearance  of  the  article,  I  anticipated  it  with  various 
sketches,  stories,  etc.,  all  of  which  were  largely  fanciful  or 
descriptive,  and  contained  no  paragraph  which  I  wish  to 
recall.  In  other  directions,  I  was  less  successful.  Of  two 

taily  journals  to  which  I  offered  my  services,  one  declined 
)  answer  my  letter,  and  the  other  demanded  a  quarto  of 
credentials. 

So  I  lived  a  fugitive  existence,  a  practical  illustration  of 
Irving' s  "  Poor  Devil  Author,"  looking  as  often  into  pastry- 
shop  windows,  testing  all  manner  of  cheap  Pickwickian 
veal-pies,  breakfasting  upon  a  chop,  and  supping  upon  a 


288  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

herring  in  my  suburban  residence,  but  keeping  up  pluck  and 
cliique  so  deceptively,  that  nobody  in  the  place  suspected  me 
of  poverty. 

I  went  for  some  American  inventors,  to  a  rifle  ground, 
and  explained  to  the  Lords  of  the  Admiralty  the  merits  of  a 
new  projectile  ;  wrote  letters  to  all  the  Continental  sover- 
eigns for  an  itinerant  and  independent  embassador,  and  was 
at  last  so  poor  that  my  only  writing  papers  were  a  druggist's 
waste  bill-heads.  An  article  with  no  other  "  backing"  than 
this  was  fortunate  enough  to  stray  into  the  Cornhill  Maga- 
zine. I  found  thaJ^its  proprietor  kept  a  banking-house 
in  Pall  Mall,  and  dxrabtful  of  my  welcome  on  Cornhill,  ven- 
tured one  day  in  my  unique  American  costume,  —  slouched 
hat,  wide  garments,  and  squared-toed  boots,  —  to  send  to 
him  directly  my  card.  He  "probably  thought  from  its  face 
that  a  relative  of  Mr.  Mason's  was  about  to  open  an  exten- 
sive account  with  him.  As  it  was,  once  admitted  to  his 
presence,  he  could  not  escape  me.  The  manuscript  lay  in 
his  hands  before  he  fully  comprehended  my  purpose.  He 
was  a  fine  specimen  of  the  English  publisher,  —  robust, 
ruddy,  good-naturedly  acute,  —  and  as  he  said  with  a  smile 
that  he  would  waive  routine  and  take  charge  of  my  copy,  I 
knew  that  the  same  hands  had  fastened  upon  the  crude 
pages  of  Jane  Eyre,  and  the  best  labors  of  Hazlitt,  Ruskin, 
Leigh  Hunt,  and  Thackeray. 

Two  more  weary  weeks  elapsed  ;  I  found  it  pleasant  to 
work,  but  very  trying  to  wait.  At  the  end  my  courage 
very  nearly  failed.  I  reached  the  era  of  self-accusation  ;  to 
make  myself  forget  myself  I  took  long,  ardent  marches  into 
the  open  country ;  followed  the  authors  I  had  worshipped 
through  the  localities  they  had  made  reverend  ;  lost  myself 
in  dreaminesses,  —  those  precursors  of  death  in  the  snow,  — 
and  wished  myself  back  in  the  ranks  of  the  North,  to  go 
down  in  the  frenzy,  rather  than  thus  drag  out  a  life  of  civil 
indigence,  robbing  at  once  my  brains  and  my  stomach. 

One  morning,  as  I  sat  in  my  little  Islington  parlor,  wish- 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A    NON-COMBATANT.  289 

ing  that  the  chop  I  had  just  eaten  had  gone  farther,  and 
taking  a  melancholy  inventory  of  the  threadbare  carpet  and 
rheumatic  chairs,  the  door-knocker  fell ;  there  were  steps  in 
the  hall ;  my  name  was  mentioned. 

A  tall  young  gentleman  approached  me  with  a  letter :  I 
received  him  with  a  strange  nervousness  ;  was  there  any 
crime  in  my  record,  I  asked  fitfully,  for  which  I  had  been 
traced  to  this  obscure  suburb  for  condign  arrest  and  decapi- 
tation ?  Ha !  ha !  it  was  my  heart,  not  my  lips,  that 
laughed.  I  could  have  cried  out  like  Enoch  Arden  in  his 
dying  apostrophe  :  — 

"A  sail!  a  sail! 
I  am  saved !  " 

for  the  note,  in  the  publisher's  own  handwriting,  said  this, 
and  more  :  — 

"  DEAB  SIR,  —  I  shall  be  glad  to  send  you  fifteen  guineas  immedi- 
ately, in  return  for  "your  article  on  General  Pope's  Campaign,  if  the 
price  will  suit  you." 

But  I  suppressed  my  enthusiasm.  I  spoke  patronizingly 
to  the  young  gentleman.  Dr.  Johnson,  at  the  brewer's 
vendue,  could  not  have  been  more  learnedly  sonorous. 

"  You  may  say  in  return,  sir,  that  the  sum  named  will  re- 
munerate me." 

At  the  same  time  the  instinct  was  intense  to  seize  the 
youth  by  the  throat,  and  tell  him  that  if  the  remittance  was 
delayed  beyond  the  morning,  I  would  have  his  heart's- 
blood  !  I  should  have  liked  to  thrust  him  into  the  coal- 
hole as  a  hostage  for  its  prompt  arrival,  or  send  one  of  his 
ears  to  the  publishing  house  with  a  warning,  after  the  man- 
ner of  the  Neapolitan  brigands. 

That  afternoon  I  walked  all  the  way  to  Edmonton,  over 
John  Gilpin's  route,  and  boldly  invested  two-pence  in  beer 
at  the  time-honored  Bell  Inn.  I  disdained  to  ride  back  upon 
25 


290  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

the  omnibus  for  the  sum  of  threepence,  but  returned  on 
foot  the  entire  eight  miles,  and  thought  it  only  a  league. 
Next  day  my  check  came  duly  to  hand,  —  a  very  formidable 
check,  with  two  pen-marks  drawn  across  its  face.  I  carried 
it  to  Thrcadueedle  Street  by  the  unfrequented  routes,  to 
avoid  having  my  pockets  picked,  and  presented  it  to  the 
cashier,  wondering  if  he  knew  me  to  be  a  foreign  gentleman 
who  had  written  for  the  Cornhill  Magazine.  The  cashier 
looked  rather  contemptuous,  I  thought,  being  evidently  a 
soulless  character  with  no  literary  affinities. 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  curtly,  "  this  check  is  crossed." 

"Sir!" 

"  We  can't  cash  the  check  ;  it  is  crossed." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  crossed  ?  " 

"Just  present  it  where  you  got  it,  and  you  will  find 
out."  . 

The  cashier  regarded  me  as  if  I  had  offered  a  ticket  of 
leave  rather  than  an  order  for  the  considerable  amount  of 
seventy-five  dollars.  I  left  that  banking-house  a  broken 
man,  and  stopped  with  a  long,  long  face  at  a  broker's  to  ask 
for  an  explanation. 

"  Yesh,  yesh,"  said  the  little  man,  whose  German  silver 
spectacles  sat  upon  a  bulbously  Oriental  nose ;  "  ze  monish 
ish  never  paid  on  a  crossed  shequc.  If  one  hash  a  bank-ac- 
count, you  know,  zat  ish  different.  Ze  gentleman  who  gif 
you  dis  shequc  had  no  bishness  to  crosh  it  if  you  have  no 
banker." 

I  was  too  vain  to  go  back  to  Cornhill  and  confess  that  I 
had  neither  purse  nor  purser ;  so  I  satisfied  the  broker  that 
the  affair  was  correct,  and  he  cashed  the  bill  for  five  shil- 
lings. 

That  was  the  end  of  my  necessities  ;  money  came  from 
home,  from  this  and  that  serial ;  my  published  articles  were 
favorably  noticed,  and  opened  the  market  to  me.  What- 
ever I  penned  found  sale  ;  and  some  correspondence  that  I 
had  leisure  to  fulfil  for  America  brought  me  steady  re- 
ceipts. 


CAMPAIGNS   OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  291 

Had  I  been  prudent  with  my  means,  and  prompt  to  ad- 
vantage myself  of  opportunities,  I  might  have  obtained  ac- 
cess to  the  best  literary  society,  and  sold  my  compositions 
for  correspondingly  higher  prices.  Social  standing  in  Eng- 
lish literature  is  of  equal  consequence  with  genius.  The 
poor  Irish  governess  cannot  find  a  publisher,  but  Lady  Mor- 
gan takes  both  critics  and  readers  by  storm.  A  duchess's 
name  on  the  title-page  protects  the  fool  in  the  letter-press  ; 
irreverent  republicanism  is  not  yet  so  great  a  respecter  of 
persons.  I  was  often  invited  out  to  dinner,  and  went  to 
the  expense  of  a  dress-coat  and  kids,  without  which  one 
passes  the  genteel  British  portal  at  his  peril ;  but  found 
that  both  the  expense  and  the  stateliness  of  "society" 
were  onerous.  In  this  department  I  had  no  perseverance  ; 
but  when,  one  evening,  I  sat  with  the  author  of  "  Vanity 
Fair,"  in  the  concert  rooms  at  Covent  Garden,  as  Colonel 
Newcome  and  Clive  had  done  before  me,  and  took  my  beer 
and  mutton  with  those  kindly  eyes  measuring  me  through 
their  spectacles,  I  felt  that  such  grand  companionship  lifted 
me  from  the  errantry  of  my  career  into  the  dignity  of  a  re- 
nowned art. 

I  moved  my  lodgings,  after  three  months,  to  a  pleasant 
square  of  the  West  End,  where  I  had  for  associates,  among 
others,  several  American  artists.  Strange  men  were  they 
to  be  so  far  from  home  ;  but  I  have  since  found,  that  the 
poorer  one  is  the  farther  he  travels,  and  the  majority  of 
these  were  quite  destitute.  Two  of  them  only  had  perma- 
nent employment ;  a  few,  now  and  then,  sold  a  design -to  a 
magazine  ;  the  mass  went  out  sketching  to  kill  time,  and 
trusted  to  Providence  for  dinner.  But  they  were  good  fel- 
lows for  the  most  part,  kindly  to  one  another,  and  meeting 
in  their  lodgings,  where  their  tenure  was  uncertain,  to  score 
Millais,  or  praise  Rosetti,  or  overwhelm  Frith. 

My  own  life  meantime  passed  smoothly.  I  had  no  rivals 
of  my  own  nationality ;  though  one  expatriated  person, 
whose  name  I  have  not  heard,  was  writing  a  series  of 


292  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

prejudiced  articles  for  Fraser,  which  he  signed  "  A  White 
Republican."  I  thought  him  a  very  dirty  white.  One  or 
two  English  travellers  at  the  same  time  were  making 
amusingly  stupid  notices  of  America  in  some  of  the  second- 
rate  monthlies  ;  and  Maxwell,  a  bustling  Irishman,  who 
owns  Temple  Bar,  the  Saint  James,  and  Sixpenny  Magazine, 
and  some  half  dozen  other  serials,  was  employing  a  man  to 
invent  all  varieties  of  rubbish  upon  a  country  which  he  had 
never  beheld  nor  comprehended. 

After  a  few  months  the  passages  of  the  war  with  which  I 
was  cognizant  lost  their  interest  by  reason  of  later  occur- 
rences. I  found  myself,  so  to  speak,  wedged  out  of  the 
market  by  new  literary  importations.  The  enforcement  of 
the  draft  brought  to  Europe  many  naturalized  countrymen 
of  mine,  whose  dislike  of  America  was  not  lessened  by  their 
unceremonious  mode  of  departure  from  it  ;  and  it  is  to 
these,  the  mass  of  whom  are  familiarly  known  in  the  jour- 
nals of  this  country,  that  we  owe  the  most  insidious,  because 
the  best  informed,  detraction  of  us.  Macmillan's  Magazine 
did  us  sterling  service  through  the  papers  of  Edward  Dicey, 
the  best  literary  feuilletonist  in  England  ;  and  Professor 
Newman,  J.  Stuart  Mill,  and  others,  gave  us  the  limited 
influence  of  the  Westminster  Review.  The  Cornliill  was 
neutral ;  CJiambers's  respectfully  inimical ;  Bentley  and  Col- 
burn  antagonistically  flat ;  Maxwell's  tri-visaged  publica- 
tions grinningly  abusive  ;  Good  Words  had  neither  good  nor 
bad  words  for  us ;  Once  a  Week  and  All  the  Year  Hound 
gave  us  a  shot  now  and  then.  Blackwood  and  Fraser  dis- 
liked our  form  of  Government,  and  all  its  manifestations. 
The  rest  of  the  reviews,  as  far  as  I  could  see,  pitied  and 
berated  us  pompously.  It  was  more  than  once  suggested 
to  me  to  write  an  experimental  paper  upon  the  failure  of 
republicanism  ;  but  I  knew  only  one  American  —  a  New 
York  correspondent  —  who  lent  himself  to  a  systematic 
abuse  of  the  Government  which  permitted  him  to  reside  in 
it.  He  obtained  a  newsboy's  fame,  and,  I  suspect,  earned 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   Is7OX-COMBATANT.  293 

considerable.  He  is  dead  :  let  any  who  love  him  shorten 
his  biography  by  three  years. 

However,  I  at  last  concluded  a  book,  —  if  I  may  so  call 
what  never  resulted  in  a  volume,  —  at  which,  from  the  first, 
I  had  been  pegging  away.  I  called  it  "  The  War  Corre- 
spondent," and  made  it  the  literal  record  of  my  adventures 
in  the  saddle.  When  some  six  hundred  MS.  pages  were 
done  I  sent  it  to  a  publisher ;  he  politely  sent  it  back.  I 
forwarded  it  to  a  rival  house  ;  in  this  respect  only  both 
houses  were  agreed.  Having  some  dim  recollection  of  the 
early  trials  of  authors  I  perseveringly  gave  that  copy  the 
freedom  of  the  city  ;  the  verdict  upon  it  was  marvellously 
identical,  but  the  manner  of  declension  was  always  sooth- 
ing. They  separately  advised  m§  not  to  be  content  with 
one  refusal,  but  to  try  some  other  house,  though  I  came  at 
last  to  think,  by  the  regularity  of  its  transit  to  and  fro,  that 
one  house  only  had  been  its  recipient  from  the  first. 

At  last,  assured  of  its  positive  failure,  I  took  what  seemed 
to  be  the  most  philosophic  course,  —  neither  tossing  it  into 
the  Thames,  after  the  fashion  of  a  famous  novelist,  nor  litter- 
ing my  floor  with  its  fragments,  and  dying  amidst  them  like 
a  chiffonnier  in  his  den  :  I  cut  the  best  paragraphs  out  of  it, 
strung  them  together,  and  published  it  by  separate  articles 
in  the  serials.  My  name  failed  to  be  added  to  the  British 
Museum  Catalogue  ;  but  that  circumstance  is,  at  the  pres- 
ent time,  a  matter  of  no  regret  whatever. 

When  done  with  the  war  I  took  to  story-writing,  using 
many  half-forgotten  incidents  of  American  police-reporting, 
of  border  warfare,  of  the  development  of  civilization  among 
the  pioneers,  of  thraldom  in  the  South,  and  the  gold  search 
on  the  Pacific.  The  majority  of  these  travelled  across  the 
water,  and  were  republished.  And  when  America,  in  the 
garb  of  either  fact  or  fiction,  lost  novelty,  I  entered  the  wide 
field  of  miscellaneous  literature  among  a  thousand  com- 
petitors. 

An  author's  ticket  to  the  British  Museum  Reading-room 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

put  the  whole  world  so  close  around  rne  that  I  could  touch 
it  everywhere.  I  never  entered  the  noble  rotunda  of  that 
vast  collection  without  an  emotion  of  littleness  and  awe. 
Lit  only  from  the  roof,  it  reminded  me  of  the  Roman 
Pantheon  ;  and  truly  all  the  gods  whom  I  had  worshipped 
sat,  not  in  statue,  but  in  substance,  along  its  radiating 
tables,  or  trod  its  noiseless  floors.  Half  the  literature  of 
our  language  flows  from  thence.  One  may  see  at  a  glance 
grave  naturalists  knee-deep  in  ichthyological  tomes,  or  buzz- 
ing over  entomology  ;  pale  zealots  copying  Arabic  charac- 
ters, with  the  end  to  rebuild  Bethlehem  or  the  ruins  of 
Mecca ;  biographers  gloating  over  some  rare  original  letter  ; 
periodical  writers  filching  from  two  centuries  ago  for  their 
next  "  new"  article.  The  Marquis  of  Lansdowne  is  dead  ; 
you  may  see  the  Times  reporter  yonder  running  down  the 
events  of  his  career.  Poland  is  in  arms  again,  and  the 
clever  compiler  farther  on  means  to  make  twenty  pounds 
out  of  it  by  summing  up  her  past  risings  and  ruins.  The 
bruisers  King  and  Mace  fought  yesterday,  and  the  plodding 
person  close  by  from  BeWs  Life  is  gleaning  their  antecedents. 
Half  the  literati  of  our  age  do  but  like  these  bind  the  present 
to  the  past.  A  great  library  diminishes  the  number  of  think- 
ers ;  the  grand  fountains  of  philosophy  and  science  ran 
before  types  were  so  facile  or  letters  became  a  trade. 

The  novelty  of  this  life  soon  wore  away,  and  I  found  my- 
self the  creature  of  no  romance,  but  plodding  along  a  prosy 
road  with  very  practical  people. 

I  carried  my  MSS.  into  Paternoster  Row  like  anybody's 
book-keeper,  and  accused  the  world  of  no  particular  ingrat- 
itude that  it  could  not  read  my  name  with  my  articles,  and 
that  it  gave  itself  no  concern  to  discover  me.  Yet  there 
was  a  private  pleasure  in  the  congeniality  of  my  labor,  and 
in  the  consciousness  that  I  could  float  upon  my  quill  even 
in  this  vast  London  sea.  Once  or  twice  my  articles  went 
across  the  Channel  and  returned  in  foreign  dress.  I  wonder 
if  I  shall  ever  again  feel  the  thrill  of  that  first  recognition  of 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  295 

my  offspring-  coming  to  my  knee  with  their  strange  French 
prattle. 

1  was  not  uniformly  successful,  but,  if  rejected,  my  MSS. 
were  courteously  returned,  with  a  note  from  the  editor.  As 
a  sample  I  give  the  following.  The  original  is  a  litho- 
graphed fac-simile  of  the  handwriting  of  Mr.  Dickens, 
printed  in  blue  ink,  the  date  and  the  title  of  the  manuscript 
being  in  another  handwriting. 

OFFICE  OF  "  ALL  THE  YEAR  ROUND." 

A  WEEKLY  JOURNAL   CONDUCTED   BY   CHARLES   DICKENS. 

No.  20  WELLINGTON  STREET,  STRAND,  LONDON,  W.  C. 

January  27,  18C3. 

Mr.  Ch;*rlcs  Dickens  begs  to  thank  the  writer  of  the  paper  entitled 
"  A  Battle  Sunday  "  for  having  done  him  the  favor  to  offer  it  as  a  con- 
tribution to  these  pages.  He  much  regrets,  however,  that  it  is  not 
suited  to  the  requirements  of  "All  the  Year  Round." 

The  manuscript  will  be  returned,  under  cover,  if  applied  for  as 
above. 

The  prices  of  miscellaneous  articles  in  London  are  remu- 
nerative. Twenty-four  shillings  a  magazine  page  is  the 
common  valuation  :  but  specially  interesting  papers  rate 
higher.  Literature  as  a  profession,  in  England,  is  more  cer- 
tain and  more  progressive  than  with  us.  It  is  not  debased 
with  the  heavy  leaven  of  journalism.  Among  the  many 
serial  publications  of  London,  ability,  tact,  and  industry 
should  always  find  a  liberal  market.  There  is  less  of  the 
vagrancy  of  letters,  —  Bohemianism,  Mohicanism,  or  what 
not,  —  in  London  than  in  either  New  York  or  Paris. 

I  think  we  have  the  cleverer  fugitive  writers  in  America, 
but  those  of  England  seemed  to  me  to  have  more  self-respect 
and  conscientiousness.  The  soul  of  the  scribe  need  never 
be  in  pledge  if  there  are  many  masters. 

While  a  good  writer  in  any  department  can  find  work 
across  the  water,  I  would  advise  no  one  to  go  abroad  with 
this  assurance  solely.  My  success  —  if  so  that  can  be 


296  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NOX-COMBATAXT. 

called  which  yielded  me  life,  not  profit  —  was  circumstan- 
tial, and  cannot  be  repeated.  I  should  be  loth  to  try  it 
again  upon  purely  literary  merits.  v 

After  nine  months  of  experiment  I  bade  the  insular  me- 
tropolis adieu,  and  returned  no  more.  The  Continent  was 
close  and  beckoning ;  I  heard  the  confusion  of  her  tongues, 
and  saw  the  shafts  of  her  Gothic  Babels  probing  the  clouds, 
and  for  another  year  I  roamed  among  her  cities,  as  ardent 
and  errant  as  when  I  went  afield  on  my  pony  to  win  the 
spurs  of  a  War  Correspondent. 


CHAPTER    XXVH. 

SPUES    IN   THE    PICTURE    GALLERIES. 

FLORENCE,  city  of  my  delight !  how  do  I  thrill  at  the  recol- 
lection of  the  asylum  afforded  rne  by  thee  in  the  Via  Parione. 
The  room  was  tiled,  and  cool,  and  high,  and  its  single  win- 
dow looked  out  upon  a  real  palace,  where  the  family  of 
Corsini,  presided  over  by  a  porter  in  cocked  hat  and  an  exu- 
berance of  gold  lace,  gave  me  frequent  glimpses  of  gauze 
dresses  and  glorious  eyes,  whose  owners  sometimes  came 
to  the  casement  to  watch  the  poor  little  foreigner,  writing 
so  industriously. 

Every  young  traveller  has  two  or  three  subjects  of  unrest. 
Mine  were  girls  and  art.  The  copyists  in  the  galleries  were 
more  beautiful  studies  to  me  than  the  paintings.  The  next 
time  I  go  to  Europe,  I  shall  take  enough  money  along  to 
give  all  the  pretty  ones  an  order ;  this  will  be  an  introduc- 
tion, and  I  shall  know  how  they  live,  and  how  much  money 
they  make,  and  what  passions  have  heaved  their  beautiful 
bosoms,  to  make  their  slow,  quiet  lives  forever  haunted  and 
longing. 

Love,  love !  There  are  only  two  grand,  unsatiated  pas- 
sions, which  keep  us  forever  in  freshness  and  fever,  —  love 
and  art. 

In  Italy  I  breathed  the  purest  atmosphere  ;  all  the  world 
was  a  landscape  picture ;  all  the  skies  were  spilling  blue- 
ness  and  crimson  upon  the  mountains  5  all  the  faces  were 
Madonnas  ;  all  the  perspectives  were  storied  architecture. 

(297) 


298  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

Westward  the  star  of  Empire  takes  its  way,  but  that  of  art 
shines  steadily  in  the  East.  Thither  look  our  American 
young  men,  no  matter  at  which  of  its  altars  they  make  their 
devotions,  —  painting,  sculpture,  or  architecture.  And  I, 
who  had  known  some  fondness  for  the  pencil  till  lured  into 
the  wider,  wilder  field  of  letters,  felt  almost  an  artist's  joy 
when  I  stood  in  the  presence  of  those  solemn  masters  whose 
works  are  inspired  and  imperishable,  like  religion. 

Having  passed  the  first  thrill  and  disappointment, —  for 
pure  art  speaks  only  to  the  pure  by  intuition  or  initiation, 
and  I  was  yet  a  novice,  —  my  old  newspaper  curiosity  re- 
vived to  learn  of  the  successful  living  rather  than  of  the 
grand  dead. 

Correspondents,  like  poets,  are  born,  not  made  :  the  ven- 
erable associations  around  me  —  monuments,  cloisters,  pal- 
aces, the  homes  and  graves  of  great  men  whom  I  revered, 
the  aisles  where  every  canvas  bore  a  spell  name  —  could 
not  wean  me  from  that  old,  reportorial  habit  of  asking  ques- 
tions, peeping  into  private  nooks,  and  making  notes  upon 
contemporary  things,  just  as  I  had  done  for  three  years,  in 
cities,  on  routes,  on  battle-fields.  And  as  the  old  world 
seemed  to  me  only  a  great  art  museum,  I  longed  to  look  be- 
hind the  tapestry  at  the  Ghobelin  weavers,  pulling  the  beau- 
tiful threads. 

"  Where  dwell  these  gay  and  happy  students,  who  quit 
our  hard,  bright  skies,  and  land  of  angularities,  to  inhale 
the  dews  of  these  sedative  mosses,  and,  by  attrition  with 
masterpieces,  glean  something  of  the  spirit  of  the  mas- 
ters ?  " 

Straightway  the  faery  realm  opened  to  me,  and  two 
months  of  Italian  rambling  were  spent  in  association  with 
the  folk  I  esteemed  only  less  than  my  own  exemplars. 

Art,  in  all  ages,  is  the  flowery  way.  No  pursuit  gives  so 
great  joy  in  the  achieving,  none  achieved  yields  higher 
meed  of  competence,  contentment,  and  repute.  Its  ambi- 
tion is  more  genial  and  subdued  than  that  of  literature,  its 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NOX-COMBATAXT.  299 

rivalry  more  courteous  and  exalting  ;  its  daily  life  should  be 
pastoral  and  domestic,  free  from  those  feverish  mutations 
and  adventures  which  cross  the  incipient  author,  and  it  is 
forever  surrounded  by  bright  and  beautiful  objects  which 
linger  too  long  upon  the  eye  to  stir  the  mind  to  more  than 
emulation. 

Is  it  harsh  to  say  that  artists  have  been  too  well  re- 
warded, and  thinkers  and  writers  too  ill  ?  Vasari  dines  at 
the  ducal  table,  while  Galileo's  pension  is  the  rack  ;  the 
mob  which  carries  Cimabue's  canvas  in  triumph,  drives 
Dante  into  exile  ;  Rubens  is  a  king's  ambassador,  and  Gro- 
tius  is  sent  to  jail ;  to  Reynolds's  levees,  poor,  bankrupt 
Goldsmith  steals  like  an  unwelcome  guest,  and  Apelles's 
gold  is  paid  to  him  in  measures,  while  Homer,  sing-ing  im- 
mortal lines,  goes  blind  and  begging. 

Art  students  take  rank  in  Italy  among  the  best  of  trav- 
ellers, but  Bohemianism  in  art  is  at  one's  peril.  There  are 
many  wasted  lives  among  the  clever  fellows  who  go  abroad 
ostensibly  for  study.  I  recall  Jimman,  who  was  an  expert 
with  the  pencil,  and  who  colored  with  excellent  discrimina- 
tion. He  went  to  Dusseldorf  at  first,  and  became  known 
to  Leutze,  who  praised  his  sketches.  He  began  to  asso- 
ciate at  once  with  students  and  tipplers,  and  dissipated  less 
by  drinking  than  by  talking.  I  have  a  theory  that  more 
men  are  lost  to  themselves  and  the  age  by  a  love  of  "  gab- 
bing "  than  by  drinking.  It  is  not  hard  to  eschew  cognac 
and  claret,  but  there  is  no  cure  for  "  buzzing."  There  is  a 
drunkenness  of  talk  which  takes  possession  of  one,  and 
Jimman  would  have  had  the  delirium  tremens  in  a  week, 
with  nobody  to  listen  to  him.  To  my  mind  the  Trappiste 
takes  the  severest  of  monastic  vows. 

Jimman  used  to  rise  in  the  morning  betimes,  full  of  inflex- 
ible resolution.  Having  stretched  his  canvas,  and  carefully 
prepared  his  pigments,  he  went  to  breakfast,  pondering 
great  achievements.  Here  he  fell  in  with  a  lot  of  Germans, 
—  the  most  incurable  race  of  gossipers  in  the  world,  —  and 


300  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT. 

while  they  discussed,  in  a  learned  way,  every  subject  under 
the  sun,  the  meal  extended  into  the  afternoon,  and  Jimman 
concluded  that  it  was  then  too  late  to  undertake  anything. 
In  this  way  his  ambition  burnt  away,  his  money  was  squan- 
dered, he  lost  facility  of  manipulation,  and  came  back  to 
Paris  at  the  age  of  twenty-eight,  to  pursue  the  same  list- 
less, garrulous  existence  ;•  debts  and  grisettes,  buzzing  and 
brandy,  the  utterance  of  resolves  which  expired  in  the  ut- 
terance, and  Jimman  finally  became,  perforce,  a  common 
apprentice  to  a  moulder,  that  he  might  not  entirely  starve. 

I  saw  him,  for  the  last  time,  in  the  Louvre,  looking  at 
Zurbaran's  "Kneeling  Monk." 

"  Ah,  Townsend,"  he  said,  "  I  might  have  done  some- 
thing like  that.  All  my  zeal  is  gone." 

And  he  began  to  chat  in  the  same  loose,  familiar  way. 
Dumbness  and  deafness  would  have  been  endowments 
rather  than  deprivations  for  him. 

I  had  rooms  in  Florence  with  Gypsum  and  Stagg.  The 
former  was  a  young,  industrious  fellow,  of  German  descent, 
who  worked  hard,  but  not  wisely.  He  spent  half  a  year  in 
copying  a  face  by  Paul  Veronese,  and  the  other  half  in 
sketching  an  old  convent  yard.  But  he  did  not  visit,  and 
an  artist,  to  get  orders  and  take  rank,  must  be  seen  as  well 
as  be  earnest.  He  need  not  be  hail-fellow,  but  should  keep 
well  in  the  circle  of  respectable  travellers  ;  for  these  are  to 
be  his  patrons,  if  he  pleases  them.  Gypsum  was  over- 
modest  and  too  conscientious ;  he  had  only  a  trifle  of  money, 
and  was  careless  of  his  attire.  So  he  disregarded  society, 
and  society  forgot  him.  Therefore,  at  dawn,  he  betook  him- 
self to  the  old  convent-yard,  and  stood  at  his  easel  bravely, 
never  so  unhappy  as  when  one  of  the  church's  innumerable 
holy  days  arrived,  for  then  he  was  forbidden  to  work  upon 
the  convent  premises.  With  all  his  conscientiousness  he 
received  no  orders  ;  while  Stagg,  who  was  not  more  clever, 
proportioned  to  his  longer  experience,  was  befriended  on 
every  hand,  because  he  went  to  the  American  chapel 
regularly  and  wore  a  dress-coat  at  the  sociables. 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A  NON-COMBATANT.  301 

Stagg  used  the  old  studio  of  Buchanan  Eead,  just  off'  the 
Via  Scragli. 

I  stumbled  upon  him  one  morning,  and  saw  more  than  1 
anticipated. 

A  young,  plump  girl,  without  so  much  as  a  fig-leaf  upon 
her,  was  posing  before  his  easel,  so  motionless  that  she 
scarcely  winked,  one  hand  extended  and  clasping  her 
loosened  tresses,  and  bending  upon  one  white  and  dimpled 
knee. 

She  had  the  large  dark  eyes  of  the  professional  modello, 
and  a  bosom  as  ripe  as  Titian's  Venus.  Her  feet  were 
small,  and  her  hands  very  white  and  beautiful.  But  of  me 
she  took  no  more  notice  than  if  I  had  been  a  bird  alighting 
upon  the  window,  or  a  mouse  peeping  at  her  from  the  edge 
of  his  knot-hole. 

Old  Stagg,  who  was  commonly  grave  as  a  clergyman, 
now  and  then  left  his  easel  to  alter  her  position,  and  when 
he  was  done,  she  gathered  up  her  clothes,  which  had  lain  in 
a  heap  on  the  floor,  and  took  her  few  silver  pieces  with  a 
"  Mille  grazie,  Signore ! "  and  went  home  to  take  dinner 
with  her  little  brothers. 

A  studio  in  Florence  costs  only  fifteen  or  twenty  francs  a 
month,  —  seldom  so  much.  There  are  a  series  of  excellent 
ones  in  the  same  Via  Seragli,  in  a  very  large  dismantled 
convent.  There  is  a  well  in  the  centre  of  its  great  court- 
yard, and  innumerable  ropes  lead  from  it  to  the  various  high 
windows  of  the  building,  on  which  buckets  of  water  are  for- 
ever ascending.  All  this  of  which  I  speak  refers  to  a  year 
ago,  when  Florence  was  not  a  capital ;  doubtless,  studios 
command  more  at  present. 

The  models  at  Florence  were  to  me  strange  personages. 
There  was  a  drawing-school  which  I  sometimes  attended, 
where  one  old  woman  kept  three  daughters,  aged  respec- 
tively twenty,  seventeen,  and  thirteen  years.  They  lived 
pretty  much  as  they  were  born,  and  while  they  posed  upon 
a  high  platform,  the  old  woman  took  her  seat  near  the  door 

2G 


302  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

and  looked  on  with  grim  satisfaction.  She  was  very  care- 
ful of  their  moral  habits,  but  the  second  one  she  lost  by  an 
excess  of  greed.  She  resolved  to  make  them  useful  by  day, 
as  well  as  by  night,  and  put  them  to  work  at  the  studios  of 
individual  artists.  But  as  no  one  artist  wanted  three  mod- 
els, the  girls  had  to  separate,  and,  out  of  the  mother's  vigi- 
lance, the  second  one,  Orsolo,  went  to  the  atelier  of  a 
wicked  and  handsome  fellow,  and  met  with  the  usual  ro- 
mance of  her  class. 

The  oldest  girl,  Luigia,  married  a  man-model,  aud  their 
nuptials  must  have  been  of  a  most  prosaic  character. 

Among  the  many  men  who  thus  stood  for  the  artists,  was 
one  old  fellow,  tall,  and  bearded,  and  massively  character- 
ized, who  used  to  remain  motionless  for  hours,  until  he 
seemed  to  be  dead.  He  had  been  a  model  in  every  stage  of 
life,  from  childhood  to  the  grave,  and  represented  every 
subject  from  Garibaldi  to  Moses. 

The  walks  in  and  around  Florence  occupied  all  my  Sab- 
baths. Stagg  and  I  used  to  stroll  up  to  Fiesole,  by  the 
villa  where  Boccaccio's  party  of  story-tellers  met,  and  look 
up  old  pictures  in  the  village  church  ;  we  measured  the  pro- 
portions of  the  chapel  on  the  hill  of  Saint  Miniato,  and  he 
endeavored  in  vain  to  imitate  the  hue  of  the  light  as  it  fell 
through  the  veined  marble  of  Serravezza ;  we  spent  con- 
templative afternoons  in  the  house  of  Michael  Angelo,  and 
went  up  to  Vallambrosa,  at  the  risk  of  our  necks,  to  look  at 
a  Giotto  no  bigger  than  a  tea-plate.  In  Florence  there  is 
enough  out-of-door  statuary  to  make  one  of  the  finest  gal- 
leries in  the  world.  The  majesty  of  Donatello's  "  Saint 
George  "  arises  before  me  when  I  would  conceive  of  any 
noble  humanity,  and  the  sweep  of  Orgagna's  great  arches 
give  me  an  idea  of  vastness  like  the  sea  ;  in  the  Pitti  palace 
only  giants  should  abide ;  the  Campanile  goes  up  to  heaven 
as  beautiful  as  Jacob's  ladder,  and  in  the  perpetual  twi- 
light of  the  Duomo  I  was  not  of  half  the  stature  I  believed 
when  roaming  under  the  loftier  sky. 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    NON-COMBATANT.  303 

I  saw  a  jail  in  Florence,  and  it  troubled  me  ;  who  in  that 
beautiful  city  could  do  a  crime  ?  How  should  old  age,  or 
bad  passions,  or  sickness,  or  shame,  exist  in  that  limpid  at- 
mosphere, in  the  shadow  of  such  architecture,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  those  pictures  ? 


CHAPTER    XXVIH. 

A    CORRESPONDENT   ONCE   MORE. 

AGAIN  on  the  way  to  Washington  !  I  have  made  the  trip 
more  than  sixty  times.  I  saw  the  Gunpowder  Bridge  in 
flames  when  Baltimore  was  in  arms  and  the  Capital  cut  off 
from  the  North.  I  saw  from  Perryville  the  State  flag  of 
Maryland  waving  at  Havre  de  Grace  across  the  Susque- 
hanna.  I  saw  at  the  Washington  Navy  Yard  the  blackened 
body  of  Ellsworth,  manipulated  by  the  surgeons.  I  moved 
through  the  city  with  McClellan's  onward  army  toward  the 
transports  which  were  to  carry  it  to  the  Peninsula.  The 
awful  tidings  of  the  seven  days'  retreat  came  first  through 
the  Capital  in  my  haversack,  and  before  Stonewall  Jackson 
fell  upon  the  flank  of  Pope,  I  crossed  the  Long  Bridge  with 
the  story  of  the  disaster  of  Cedar  Mountain.  In  like  man- 
ner the  crowning  glory  of  Five  Forks  made  me  its  earliest 
emissary,  and  the  murder  of  the  President  brought  me  hot 
from  Richmond  to  participate  in  the  pursuit  of  Booth  and 
chronicle  his  midnight  expiation. 

Again  am  I  on  the  way  to  the  city  of  centralization,  to 
paint  by  electricity  the  closing  scenes  of  the  conspirators, 
and,  as  I  pass  the  Pennsylvania  line,  the  recollection  of 
those  frequent  pilgrimages  —  pray  God  this  be  the  last !  — 
comes  upon  me  like  the  sequences  of  delirium. 

As  I  look  abroad  upon  the  thrifty  fields  and  the  rich  glebe 
of  the  ploughman,  I  wonder  if  the  revolutions  of  peace  are 
not  as  sweeping  and  sudden  as  those  of  war.  He  who 

(304) 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  305 

wrote  the  certain  downfall  of  this  Nation,  did  not  keep  his 
eye  upon  the  steadily  ascending  dome  of  the  capitol,  nor 
remark,  during  the  thunders  of  Gettysburg,  the  as  energetic 
stroke  of  the  pile-drivers  upon  the  piers  of  the  great  Sus- 
quehanna  bridge.  We  built  while  we  desolated.  No  fatal- 
ist convert  to  Mohammed  had  so  sure  faith  in  the  eternity 
of  his  institutions.  More  masonry  has  been  laid  along  the 
border  during  the  war  than  in  any  five  previous  years.  We 
have  finished  the  Treasury,  raised  the  bronze  gates  on  the 
Capitol,  double-railed  all  the  roads  between  New  York  and 
the  Potomac,  and  gone  on  as  if  architecture  were  imperish- 
able, while  thrice  the  Rebels  swept  down  toward  the 
Relay. 

And  we  have  done  one  strategic  thing,  which,  I  think, 
will  compare  with  the  passing  of  Vicksburg  or  the  raid  of 
Sherman  ;  we  have  turned  Philadelphia. 

This  modern  Pompeii  used  to  be  the  stumbling-block  on 
the  great  highway.  It  was  to  the  direct  Washington  route 
what  Hell-gate  was  to  the  Sound  Channel.  We  were  for- 
bidden the  right  of  way  through  it,  on  the  ground  that  by 
retarding  travel  Philadelphia  would  gain  trade,  and  had  to 
cross  the  Delaware  on  a  scow,  or  lay  up  in  some  inn  over 
night.  New  Jerseymen,  I  hear,  pray  every  morning  for 
their  daily  stranger  ;  Philadelphia  has  much  sinned  to  en- 
trap its  daily  customer.  But  Maillefert  —  by  which  name 
I  designate  the  inevitable  sledge  which  spares  the  grand 
and  pulverizes  the  little  —  has  built  a  road  around  the 
Quaker  City.  It  is  a  very  curious  road,  going  by  two  hy- 
pothenuses  of  about  fifteen  miles  to  make  a  base  of  three  or 
four,  so  that  we  lose  an  hour  on  the  way  to  the  Capital,  all 
because  of  Philadelphia's  overnight  toil. 

The  bridge  at  Perryville  will  be  one  of  the  staunchest 
upon  our  continent :  the  forts  around  Baltimore  make  the 
outlying  landscapes  scarcely  recognizable  to  the  returning 
Maryland  Rebels.  At  last,  —  woe  be  the  necessity  I  we 
have  garrisoned  our  cities.  The  Relay  House  is  the  most 
26* 


306  CAMPAIGNS   OP   A  NON-COMBATANT. 

picturesque  spot  between  the  two  foci  of  the  country. 
Wandering  through  the  woods,  I  see  the  dirty  blouses  of 
the  remnant  of  "the  boys"  and  the  old  abatis  on  the 
height  looks  sunburnt  and  rusty  ;  away  through  the  gorge 
thunders  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  train,  over  what  ruins  and 
resurrections,  torn  up  a  hundred  times,  and  as  obstinately 
relaid,  until  all  its  engineers  are  veteran  officers,  and  can 
stand  fire  both  of  the  furnace  and  the  musket.  Everybody 
in  the  country  is  a  veteran  ;  the  contractor,  who  ran  his 
schooner  of  fodder  past  the  Rebel  batteries  ;  the  correspond- 
ent, whose  lean  horse  slipped  through  the  crevices  of  drop- 
ping shells  ;  the  teamster,  who  whipped  his  mule  out  of  the 
mud-hole,  while  his  ammunition  wagon  behind  grew  hot 
with  the  heaviness  of  battle ;  the  old  farmer,  who  took  to 
his  cellar  while  the  fight  raged  in  his  chimneys^but  ven- 
tured out  between  the  bayonet  charges  to  secure  his  fatted 
calf. 

Annapolis  Junction  has  still  the  sterile  guise  of  the  cam- 
paign, where  the  hills  are  bare  around  the  hospitals,  and  the 
railway  taverns  are  whittled  to  skeletons.  I  have  really 
seen  whole  houses,  little  more  than  shells,  reduced  to  mea- 
greness  by  the  pocket-knife.  The  name  of  almost  every- 
body on  the  continent  is  cut  somewhere  in  the  South  ; 
Virginia  has  more  than  enough  names  carved  over  her  fire- 
side altars  to  inscribe  upon  all  her  multitudinous  graves. 

There  are  close  to  the  city  fine  bits  of  landscape,  where 
the  fields  dip  gracefully  into  fertile  basins,  and  rise  in  swells 
of  tilled  fields  and  orchard  to  some  knoll,  enthroning  a  por- 
ticoed  home.  Two  years  ago  all  these  fields  were  quag- 
mires, where  stranded  wheels  and  the  carcasses  of  hybrids, 
looked  as  if  a  mud-geyser  had  opened  near  by.  The  grass 
has  spread  its  covering,  as  the  birds  spread  their  leaves 
over  the  poor  babes  in  the  wood,  and  we  walk  we  know  not 
where,  nor  over  what  struggles,  and  shadows,  and  sor- 
rows. 

I  pity  the  army  mule,  though  he  never  asked  me  for  sym- 


CAMPAIGNS   OF    A   NON-COMBATANT.  307 

pathy.  Who  ever  loved  a  mule  ?  You  can  love  a  lion,  and 
make  him  lick  your  hand  :  some  people  love  parrots,  and 
owls  ;  and  I  once  knew  a  person  who  could  catch  black 
snakes  and  carry  them  lovingly  in  his  bosom  ;  but  I  never 
knew  a  beloved  mule.  Yet  this  war  has  been  fought  and 
won  by  hybrids.  They  have  pulled  us  out  of  ruts  and  fed 
us,  and  starved  for  us.  The  mule  is  the  great  quartermas- 
ter. See  him  and  his  brethren  yonder  in  corral,  —  misera- 
ble veterans  of  no  particular  race,  slab-sided,  and  capable 
of  holding  ink  between  their  ribs.  They  mounch,  and 
mounch,  and  wear  the  same  stolid  eye  which  you  have  seen 
under  the  driver's  lash,  and  in  the  vaulting  moment  of  vic- 
tory. No  stunning  receptions  greet  them,  no  cheers  and 
banquets  when  Muley  comes  marching  home ;  over  at 
Giesboro  they  come  in  crippled,  die  by  the  musket  with- 
out a  murmur,  and  are  immediately  boiled  down  and  for- 
gotten. 

I  was  once  beaten  by  a  rival  correspondent  upon  a  prom- 
inent battle,  by  riding  a  mule  with  my  despatches.  He 
walked  into  a  mud-puddle  just  half  way  between  the  field 
and  the  post-office,  and  stopped  there  till  morning. 

Here  we  are,  at  Washington.  I  have  been  in  most  of 
the  cities  of  Europe  :  some  of  them  have  dirty  suburbs,  but 
the  first  impression  of  the  Capitol  City  is  dreary  in  the  ex- 
treme ;  a  number  of  the  lost  tribes  have  established  booths 
contiguous  to  the  terminus,  wherein  the  filthiest  people  in 
the  world  eat  the  filthiest  dishes  ;  a  man's  sense  of  cleanli- 
ness vanishes  when  he  enters  the  District  of  Columbia.  I 
have  been  astonished  to  remark  how  greatness  loses  its 
stature  here.  Mr.  Charles  Sumner  is  a  handsome  man  on 
Broadway  or  Beacon  Street,  but  eating  dinner  at  Thomp- 
son's, his  shoulders  seem  to  narrow  and  his  fine  face  to  grow 
commonplace. 

Above  the  squalid  wideness  of  ungraded  streets  and  the 
waste  of  shanties  propped  upon  poles  above  abysses  of 
vacant  lots,  where  two  drunken  soldiers  are  pummelling 


308  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT. 

each  other,  towers  the  marvellous  dome  with  its  airy  genius 
firmly  planted  above,  like  the  ruins  of  Palmyra  above  con- 
temporary meanness.  Moving  up  the  streets,  in  dust  and 
mud-puddle,  you  see  shabbily  ambitious  churches,  with 
wooden  towers  ;  hotels,  the  curbs  whereof  are  speckled  with 
human  blemishes,  sustaining  like  hip-shotten  caryatides  the 
sandstone-wooden  columns.  Within  there  is  a  pandemo- 
nium of  legs  in  the  air,  and  an  agglomeration  of  saliva, 
ending  with  an  impertinent  clerk  and  two  crescents  of  lazy 
waiters,  who  shy  whisks,  and  are  ambitious  to  run  superflu- 
ous.errands,  for  the  warrant  to  rob  you.  Of  people,  you  see 
squads  ;  of  residents,  none.  The  public  edifices  have  not 
picked  their  company,  neither  have  the  public  functionaries. 
There  is  a  quantity  of  vulgar  statuary  lying  around,  horses 
standing  on  their  tails,  and  impossible  Washingtons  imbed- 
ded in  arm-chairs  ;  but  the  noble  facade  of  the  treasury 
always  suggests  to  me  Couture's  great  picture  of  the  Deca- 
dence, where,  under  a  pure  colonnade,  some- tipplers  are 
carousing.  If  we  are  to  have  statues  at  the  Capital,  let  us 
make  them  with  uplifted  hands,  and  shame  upon  their 
grave,  contemplative  faces. 

Shall  we  ever  make  Washington  the  representative  Capi- 
tal of  the  country  ? 

Certainly  all  efforts  to  improve  the  site  worthy  of  the 
seat  of  gigantic  legislation  have  hitherto  failed.  The  sword 
and  the  malaria  have  attacked  it.  Every  year  sees  the 
President  driven  from  his  Mansion  by  pestilential  vapors, 
and  the  sanitary  condition  of  the  city  is  extraordinarily  bad. 
The  carcasses  of  slain  horses  at  Giesboro  send  their  effluvia 
straight  into  Washington  on  the  wind,  and  the  "  Island," 
or  that  part  of  the  city  between  the  river  and  the  canal,  is 
dangerous  almost  all  the  year. 

Moreover,  the  entire  river  front  of  the  city  seems  to  be 
untenable,  except  for  negroes  ;  the  Washington  monument 
stands  on  the  yielding  plain  in  the  rear  of  the  Chief  Magis- 
trate's, a  stunted  ruin,  finding  no  foundation  ;  and  much  of 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  309 

P 

the  great  Capital  reserve  near  by,  would  be  a  dead  weight, 
if  any  effort  were  made  to  dispose  of  it,  as  building  lots. 
The  small  portion  of  Washington  lying  upon  Capitol  Hill,  is 
the  most  salubrious  and  covetable ;  but  it  is  a  lonesome 
journey  by  night  around  the  Capitol  grounds  to  the  city. 
The  finest  residences  lie  north  of  the  President's  house,  but 
the  number  of  these  grows  apace,  and  the  quantity  of 
capital  invested  in  private  real  estate,  remains  almost 
stationary. 

We  recall  but  two  or  three  citizens  of  Washington  who 
have  spent  their  money  on  the  spot  where  they  have  made 
it.  Corcoran  was  the  most  generous  ;  he  erected  a  museum 
of  art,  and  Government  has  made  it  a  Commissary  depot  1 
But  how  few  of  the  illustrious  Senators,  Chief  Justices, 
Generals,  etc.,  who  draw  their  sustenance  from  the  Capital, 
care  a  penny  to  decorate  it  ?  Compare  the  home  of  Gover- 
nor Sprague  on  6th  Street,  to  his  splendid  mansion  at 
Providence,  or  the  Club  House  of  the  Secretary  of  State, 
to  his  place  at  Auburn.  Washington  has  power,  but  it 
cannot  attract.  It  is  the  solitary  monarch,  at  whose  feet  all 
kneel,  but  by  none  beloved.  Strangers  repair  to  it,  grow 
rich,  and  quit  it  with  their  earnings.  Government  works 
nobly  to  imitate  the  Palaces  of  the  Caesars,  and  the  public 
edifices  leave  our  municipal  structures  far  beneath,  but  these 
marble  and  granite  piles  seem  to  mock  the  littleness  of  in- 
dividual ambition.  Two  hotels  have  been  built  during  the 
war,  both  of  the  caravansary  class,  but  the  city,  for  four 
years,  has  been  miserably  incompetent  to  entertain  its  guests, 
or  to  command  their  respect. 

Washington,  to  be  a  city,  lacks  three  elements,  —  com- 
merce, representation,  health  ;  the  environs  are  picturesque, 
and  the  new  forts  on  the  hill-tops  little  injure  the  land- 
scape. 

But  the  question  is  not  premature,  whether  Washington 
city  will  ever  answer  the  purposes  of  a  stable  seat  of  gov- 
ernment, and  reflect  the  enterprise,  patriotism,  and  taste  of 
the  American  people. 


310  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   SON-COMBATANT. 

I 

I  have  sometimes  thought  that  these  huge  public  build- 
ings, —  now  inadequate  to  accommodate  the  machinery  of 
the  Government,  —  would,  at  some  future  day,  be  the 
nucleus  of  a  great  lycee,  and  that  Washington  would  become 
the  Padua  of  the  Republic,  its  University  and  Louvre,  while 
legislation  and  administration,  despairing  of  giving  dignity 
to  the  place,  would  depart  for  a  more  congenial  locality. 

At  any  rate,  the  old  Federal  theory  of  a  sylvan  seat  of 
government  has  failed. 

For  a  sequestered  and  virtuous  retreat  of  legislation,  we 
have  corruption  augmented  by  dirt,  and  business  stagnation 
aggravated  by  disease.  There  are  virtues  in  the  town  ;  but 
these  must  be  searched  for,  and  the' vices  are  obvious. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

FIVE    FORKS. 

I  COMMENCE  my  account  on  the  battle-field,  but  must  soon 
make  the  long  and  lonely  ride  to  Humphrey's  Station,  where 
I  shall  continue  it. 

I  am  sitting  by  Sheridan's  camp-fire,  on  the  spot  he  has 
just  signalized  by  the  most  individual  and  complete  victory 
of  the  war.  All  his  veterans  are  around  him,  stooping  by 
knots  over  the  bright  fagots,  to  talk  together,  or  stretched 
upon  the  leaves  of  the  forest,  asleep,  with  the  stains  of 
powder  yet  upon  their  faces.  There  are  dark  masses  of 
horses  blackened  into  the  gray  background,  and  ambulances 
are  creaking  to  and  fro.  I  hear  the  sobs  and  howls  of  the 
weary,  and  note,  afar  off,  among  the  pines,  moving  lights 
of  burying  parties,  which  are  tumbling  the  slain  into  the 
trenches.  A  cowed  and  shivering  silence  has  succeeded 
the  late  burst  of  drums,  trumpets,  and  cannon ;  the  dead 
are  at  rest ;  the  captives  are  quiet ;  the  good  cause  has  won 
again,  and  I  shall  try  to  tell  you  how. 

Many  months  ago  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  stopped  be- 
fore Petersburg,  driven  out  of  its  direct  course  to  Rich- 
mond.  It  tried  the  Dutch  Gap  and  the  powder-ship,  and 
shelled  and  shovelled  till  Sherman  had  cut  five  States  in 
half,  and  only  timid  financiers,  sutlers,  and  congressional 
excursionists  paid  the  least  attention  to  the  armies  on  the 
James.  We  had  fights  without  much  purpose  at  our  breast- 
works, and  at  Hatcher's  Run,  biit  the  dashing  achievements 

(311) 


312  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT. 

of  Sheridan  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley  overtoppped  all  our 
dull  infantry  endeavors,  and  he  shared  with  Sherman  the 
entire  applause  of  the  country.  No  one  knows  but  that 
behind  these  actors  stood  the  invisible  prompter,  Grant ; 
yet  prompters,  however  assiduous,  never  divide  applauses 
with  the  dramatis  personcB ;  and,  therefore,  when  Sheridan, 
the  other  day,  by  one  of  those  slashing  adventures  which 
hold  us  breathless,  appeared  on  the  Pamunkey  and  crossed 
the  peninsula  to  City  Point,  even  the  armies  of  the  Poto- 
mac and  James  were  agitated.  The  personnel  of  the  man, 
not  less  than  his  renown,  affected  people.  A  very  Punch 
of  soldiers,  a  sort  of  Rip  Van  Winkle  in  regimentals,  it  as- 
tonished folks,  that  with  so  jolly  and  grotesque  a  guise,  he 
held  within  him  energies  like  lightning,  the  bolts  of  which 
had  splintered  the  fairest  parts  of  the  border.  But  nobody 
credited  General  Sheridan  with  higher  genius  than  activity ; 
we  expected  to  hear  of  him  scouring  the  Carolina  boundary, 
with  the  usual  destruction  of  railways  and  mills,  and  there- 
fore said  at  once  that  Sheridan  would  cut  the  great  South- 
side  road.  But  in  this  last  chapter  Sheridan  must  take 
rank  as  one  of  the  finest  military  men  of  our  century.  The 
battle  of  "Five  Forks  "  was,  perhaps,  the  most  ingeniously 
conceived  and  skilfully  executed  that  we  have  ever  had  on 
this  continent.  It  matches  in  secretiveness  and  shrewd- 
ness the  cleverest  efforts  of  Napoleon,  and  shows  also 
much  of  that  soldier's  Broadness  of  intellect  and  capacity 
for  great  occasions. 

Sheridan  had  scarcely  time  to  change  his  horses'  shoes 
before  he  was  off,  and  after  him  much  of  our  infantry  also 
moved  to  the  left.  We  passed  our  ancient  breastworks  at 
Hatcher's  Eun,  and  extended  our  lines  southwestward  till 
they  touched  Dinwiddie  Court  House,  thirty  miles  from 
City  Point.  The  Rebels  fell  back  with  but  little  skirmish- 
ing, until  we  faced  northward  and  reached  out  toward  their 
idolized  Southside  Railway ;  then  they  grew  uneasy,  and, 
as  a  hint  of  their  opposition,  fought  us  the  sharp  battle  of 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT.  313 

Quaker  Road  on  Thursday.  Still,  we  reached  farther  and 
farther,  marvelling  to  find  that,  with  his  depleted  army,  Lee 
always  overmatched  us  at  every  point  of  attack ;  but  on 
Friday  we  quitted  our  intrenchments  on  the  Boydtown 
plank-road,  and  made  a  bold  push  for  the  White  Oak  road. 
This  is  one  of  the  series  of  parallel  public  ways  running 
east  and  west,  south  of  the  Southside,  the  Vaughan  road 
being  the  first,  the  Boydtown  plank-road  the  second,  and 
the  old  Coui't-House  road  the  third.  It  became  evident  to 
the  Eebels  that  we  had  two  direct  objects  in  view :  the  sev- 
ering of  their  railway,  and  the  occupation  of  the  "Five 
Forks."  The  latter  is  a  magnificent  strategic  point.  Five 
good  roads  meet  in  the'  edge  of  a  dry,  high,  well-watered 
forest,  three  of  them  radiating  to  the  railway,  and  their 
tributaries  unlocking  all  the  country.  Farther  south,  their 
defences  had  been  paltry,  but  they  fortified  this  empty  soli- 
tude as  if  it  had  been  their  capital.  Upon  its  principal 
road,  the  "White  Oak,"  aforenamed,  they  had  a  ditched 
breastwork  with  embrasures  of  logs  and  earth,  reaching 
east  and  west  three  miles,  and  this  was  covered  eastward 
and  southeastward  by  rifle-pits,  masked  works,  and  felled 
timber ;  the  bridges  approaching  it  were  broken ;  all  the 
roads  picketed,  and  a  desperate  resolve  to  hold  to  it 
averred.  This  point  of  "  Five  Forks  "  may  be  as  much 
as  eight  miles  from  Dinwiddie  Court  House,  four  from  the 
Southside  road,  and  eighteen  from  Humphrey's,  the  nearest 
of  our  military  railway  stations.  A  crooked  stream  called 
Gravelly  Run,  which,  w'ith  Hatcher's,  forms  Rowanty 
Creek,  and  goes  off  to  feed  the  Chowan  in  North  Carolina, 
rises  near  "Five  Forks,"  and  gives  the  name  of  Gravelly 
Run  Church  to  a  little  Methodist  meeting-house,  built  in 
the  forest  a  mile  distant.  That  meeting-house  is  a  hospital 
to-night,  running  blood,  and  at  "Five  Forks"  a  victor's 
battle-flags  are  flying. 

The  Fifth  Army  Corps  of  General  Warren,  has  had  all  of 
the  flank  fighting  of  the  week  to  do.     It  lost  five  or  six 
27 


314  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

hundred  men  in  its  victory  of  Thursday,  and  on  Friday 
rested  along  the  Boydtown  plank-road,  at  the  house  of  one 
Butler,  chiefly,  which  is  about  seven  miles  from  Five  Forks. 
On  Friday  morning,  General  Ayres  took  the  advance  with 
one  of  its  three  divisions,  and  marched  three-quarters  of  a 
mile  beyond  the  plank-road,  through  a  woody  country, 
following  the  road,  but  crossing  the  ubiquitous  Gravelly 
Run,  till  he  struck  the  enemy  in  strong  force  a  mile  and  a 
half  below  White  Oak  road.  They  lay  in  the  edge  of  a 
wood,  with  a  thick  curtain  of  timber  in  their  front,  a  battery 
of  field-pieces  to  the  right,  mounted  in  a  bastioned  earth- 
work, and  on  the  left  the  woods  drew  near,  encircling  a  little 
farm-land  and  negro-buildings.  General  Ayres's  skirmish- 
line  being  fired  upon,  did  not  stand,  but  fell  back  upon  his 
main  column,  which  advanced  at  the  order.  Straightway 
the  enemy  charged  headlong,  while  their  battery  opened  a 
cross  fire,  and  their  skirmishers  on  our  left,  creeping  down 
through  the  woods,  picked  us  off  in  flank.  They  charged 
with  a  whole  division,  making  their  memorable  yell,  and 
soon  doubled  up  Ayres's  line  of  battle,  so  that  it  was  forced 
in  tolerable  disorder  back  upon  General  Crawford,  who  com- 
manded the  next  division.  Crawford's  men  do  not  seem  to 
have  retrieved  the  character  of  their  predecessors,  but  made 
a  feint  to  go  in,  and,  falling  by  dozens  beneath  the  murder- 
ous fire,  gave  up  the  ground.  Griffin's  division,  past  which 
the  fugitives  ran,  halted  awhile  before  taking  the  doubtful 
way  ;  the  whole  corps  was  now  back  to  the  Boydtown  plank- 
road,  and  nothing  had  been  done  to  anybody's  credit  par- 
ticularly. 

General  Griffin  rode  up  to  General  Chamberlain  in  this 
extremity.  Chamberlain  is  a  young  and  anxious  officer,  who 
resigned  the  professorship  of  modern  languages  in  Bowdoin 
College  to  embrace  a  soldier's  career.  He  had  been 
wounded  the  day  before,  but  was  zealous  to  try  death 
again. 

"  Chamberlain,"  said  Griffin,  "can't  you  save  the  honor 
of  the  Fifth  corps?" 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  315 

The  young  General  formed  his  men  at  once,  —  they  had 
tasted  powder  before,  —  the  One  Hundred  and  eighty-fifth 
New  York  and  the  One  Hundred  and  ninety-eighth  Pennsyl- 
vania. Down  they  went  into  the  creek  waist  deep,  up  the 
slope  and  into  the  clearing,  muskets  to  the  left  of  them, 
muskets  in  front  of  them,  cannon  to  the  right  of  them  ;  but 
their  pace  was  swift,  like  their  resolve  ;  many  of  them  were 
cut  down,  yet  they  kept  ahead,  and  the  Kebels,  who  seemed 
astonished  at  their  own  previous  success,  drew  off  and  gave 
up  the  field.  Almost  two  hours  had  elapsed  between  the 
loss  and  the  recovery  of  the  ground.  The  battle  might  be 
called  Dabney's  Farm,  or  more  generally  the  fight  of  Grav- 
elly Run.  The  brigades  of  Generals  Bartlett  and  Gregory 
rendered  material  assistance  in  the  pleasanter  finale  of  the 
day.  An  order  was  soon  after  issued  to  hasten  the  burial 
of  the  dead  and  quit  the  spot,  but  Chamberlain  petitioned 
for  leave  to  charge  the  Rebel  earthwork  in  the  rear,  and  the 
enthusiasm  of  his  brigade  bore  down  General  Warren's  more 
prudent  doubt.  In  brief,  Griffin's  division  charged  the  fort, 
drove  the  Rebels  out  of  it,  and  took  position  on  the  White 
Oak  road,  far  east  of  Five  Forks.  While  Griffin's  division 
must  be  credited  with  this  result,  it  may  be  said  that  their 
luck  was  due  as  much  to  the  time  as  the  manner  of  their 
appearance  ;  the  Rebel  divisions  of  Pickett  and  Bushrod 
Johnston  were,  in  the  main,  by  the  time  Griffin  came  up,  on 
their  way  westward  to  attack  Sheridan's  cavalry.  Ayres 
and  Crawford  had  charged  as  one  to  four,  but  the  forces 
were  quite  equalized  when  Chamberlain  pushed  on.  The 
corps  probably  lost  twelve  hundred  men.  In  this  action, 
the  Rebels,  for  the  first  time  for  many  weeks,  exhibited  all 
their  traditional  irresistibility  and  confidence.  The  merit 
of  the  affair,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  should  be  awarded  to 
them  ;  but  a  terrible  retribution  remained  for  them  in  the 
succeeding  day's  decrees. 

The  ill  success  of  the  earlier  efforts  of  Sheridan,  show 
conclusively   the    insufficiency  of   ever    so  good   cavalry 


316  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NON-COMBATANT. 

to  resist  well  organized  and  resolute  infantry.  Concen- 
trating at  Dinwiddie  Court  House,  he  proceeded  to  scour  so 
much  of  the  country  that  he  almost  baffled  conjecture  as  to 
where  his  quarter's  really  were.  As  many  thousand  cavalry 
as  constitute  his  powerful  force  seem  magnified,  thus  mount- 
ed and  ever  moving  here  and  there,  to  an  incredible  number. 
The  Court  House,  where  he  remained  fittingly  for  a  couple 
of  days,  is  a  cross-road's  patch,  numbering  about  twelve 
scattered  buildings,  with  a  delightful  prospect  on  every 
side  of  sterile  and  monotonous  pines.  This  is,  I  believe, 
the  largest  village  in  the  district,  though  Dinwiddie  stands 
fourth  in  population  among  Virginia  counties.  At  present 
there  is  almost  as  great  a  population  underground  as  the 
ancient  county  carried  on  its  census.  Indeed,  one  is  per- 
plexed at  every  point  to  know  whence  the  South  draws  its 
prodigious  armies.  Some  English  officers  have  been  visiting 
Dinwiddie  during  the  week,  and  one  of  them  said,  curtly  : 
"  Blast  the  country  !  it  isn't  worth  such  a  row,  you  know. 
A  very  good  place  to  be  exiled,  to  be  sure,  but  what  can 
you  ever  make  of  it !  " 

This  soulless  Briton  had  never  read  any  of  the  poems 
about  the  "  boundless  continent,"  and  had  no  distinct  con- 
ception of"  size." 

From  Dinwiddie  fields,  Sheridan's  men  went  galloping, 
by  the  aid  of  maps  and  cross-examination,  into  every  by- 
road ;  but  it  was  soon  apparent  that  the  Rebel  infantry  meant 
to  give  them  a  push.  This  came  about  on  Friday v with  a 
foretaste  on  Thursday. 

Little  Five  Forks,  is  a  cross-road  not  far  from  Dinwiddie 
Court  House,  in  the  direction  of  Petersburg.  Big  Five 
Forks,  which,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind,  gives  name  to  the 
great  battle  of  Saturday,  is  farther  out  by  many  miles,  and 
does  not  lie  within  our  lines.  But,  if  the  left  of  the  army  be 
at  Dinwiddie,  and  the  right  at  Petersburg,  Little  Five  Forks 
will  be  first  on  the  front  line,  though  when  Sheridan  fought 
there,  it  was  neutral  ground,  picketed  but  not  possessed. 


CAMPAIGNS   OP    A   NON-COMBATANT.  317 

Very  early  in  the  week,  when  the  Kebels  became  aware  of 
the  extension  of  our  lines,  they  added  to  the  regular  force 
which  encamped  upon  our  flank  line  at  least  a  division  of 
troops.  These  were  directed  to  avoid  an  infantry  fight,  but 
to  seek  out  the  cavalry,  and,  by  getting  it  at  disadvantage, 
rid  the  region  both  of  the  harmfulness  of  Sheridan,  and  that 
prestige  of  his  name,  so  terrifying  to  the  Virginia  house- 
wife. So  long  as  Sheridan  remained  upon  the  far  left,  the 
Southside  road  was  unsafe,  and  the  rapidity  with  which  his 
command  could  be  transferred  from  point  to  point  rendered 
it  a  formidable  balance  of  power.  The  Eebels  knew  the 
country  well,  and  the  peculiar  course  of  the  highways  gave 
them  every  advantage.  The  cavalry  of  Sheridan's  army 
proper,  is  divided  into  two  corps,  commanded  by  Generals 
Devin  and  Ouster ;  the  cavalry  of  the  Potomac  is  com- 
manded by  General  Crook  ;  Mackenzie  has  control  of  the 
cavalry  of  the  James.  On  Friday,  these  were  under  sep- 
arate orders,  and  the  result  was  confusion.  The  infantry 
was  beaten  at  Gravelly  Run,  and  the  cavalry  met  in  flank 
and  front  by  overwhelming  numbers,  executed  some  move- 
ments not  laid  down  in  the  manual.  The  centre  of  the 
battle  was  Little  Five  Forks,  though  the  Kebels  struck  us 
closer  to  Dinwiddie  Court  House,  and  drove  us  pell  mell  up 
the  road  into  the  woods,  and  out  the  old  Court  House  road 
to  Gravelly  Run.  We  rallied  several  times,  and  charged 
them  into  the  woods,  but  they  lay  concealed  in  copses,  and 
could  go  where  sabres  were  useless.  The  plan  of  this  battle- 
field will  show  a  series  of  irregular  advances  to  puzzle  any- 
body but  a  cavalry-man.  The  full  division  of  Bushrod 
Johnston  and  General  Pickett,  were  developed  against  us, 
with  spare  brigades  from  other  corps.  Our  cavalry  loss 
during  the  day  was  eight  hundred  in  killed  and  wounded  ; 
but  we  pushed  the  Rebels  so  hard  that  they  gave  us  the 
field,  falling  back  toward  Big  Five  Forks,  and  we  intrenched 
immediately.  Two  thousand  men  comprise  our  losses  of 
27* 


318  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

Friday  in  Warren's  corps  and  Sheridan's  command,  includ- 
ing many  valuable  officers.  We  shall  see  how,  under  a 
single  guidance,  splendid  results  were  next  day  obtained 
with  half  the  sacrifice. 

On  Friday  night  General  Grant,  dissatisfied,  like  most 
observers,  with  the  day's  business,  placed  General  Sheridan 
in  the  supreme  command  of  the  whole  of  Warren's  corps 
and  all  the  cavalry.  General  Warren  reported  to  him  at 
nightfall,  and  the  little  army  was  thus  composed  :  — 

General  Sheridan's  Forces,  Saturday  April  1,  1865. 

Three  divisions  of  infantry,  under  Generals  Griffin,  Ayres, 
and  Crawford. 

Two  divisions  of  cavalry,  formerly  constituting  the  Army 
of  the  Shenandoah,  now  commanded  by  General  Merritt, 
under  Generals  Devin  and  Ouster. 

One  division  cavalry  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  under 
General  Crook. 

Brigade  or  more  cavalry  Army  of  the  James,  under  Gen- 
eral Mackenzie. 

In  this  composition  the  infantry  was  to  the  cavalry  in  the 
proportion  of  about  two  to  one,  and  the  entire  force  a  consid- 
erable army,  far  up  in  the  teens.  Sheridan  was  absolute,  and 
his  oddly-shaped  body  began  to  bob  up  and  down  straightway ; 
he  visited  every  part  of  his  line,  though  it  stretched  from  Din- 
widdie  Court  Ilouse  to  the  Quaker  road,  along  the  Boydtown 
Plank  and  its  adjuncts.  At  daybreak  on  Saturday  he  fired 
four  signal-guns,  to  admonish  Warren  he  was  off;  and  his 
cavalry,  by  diverging  roads,  struck  their  camps.  Just 
south  of  Culpepper  is  a  certain  Stony  creek,  the  tributaries 
to  which  wind  northward  and  control  the  roads.  Over 
Stony  creek  went  Crook,  making  the  longest  detour.  Cus- 
ter  took  a  bottom  called  Chamberlain's  bed ;  and  Deviii 
advanced  from  Little  Five  Forks,  the  whole  driving  the 
Rebels  toward  the  left  of  their  works  on  White  Oak  road. 

We  must  start  with  the  supposition  that  our  own  men  far 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NON-COMBATANT.  319 

outnumbered  the  Eebels.  The  latter  were  widely  separated 
from  their  comrades  before  Petersburg,  and  the  adjustment 
of  our  infantry  as  well  as  the  great  movable  force  at  Sheri- 
dan's disposal,  renders  it  doubtful  that  they  could  have  re- 
turned. At  any  rate  they  did  not  do  so,  whether  from 
choice  or  necessity,  and  it  was  a  part  of  our  scheme  to  push 
them  back  into  their  entrenchments.  This  work  was  dele- 
gated to  the  cavalry  entirely,  but,  as  I  have  said  before, 
mounted  carbineers,  are  no  match  for  stubborn,  bayoneted 
infantry.  So  when  the  horsemen  were  close  up  to  the  Reb- 
els,  they  were  dismounted,  and  acted  as  infantry  to  all  in- 
tents. A  portion  of  them,  under  Gregg  and  Mackenzie, 
still  adhered  to  the  saddle,  that  they  might  be  put  in  rapid 
motion  for  flanking  and  charging  purposes  ;  but  fully  five 
thousand  indurated  men,  who  had  seen  service  in  the  Shen- 
andoah  arid  elsewhere,  were  formed  in  line  of  battle  on  foot, 
and  by  charge  and  deploy  essayed  the  difficult  work  of 
pressing  back  the  entire  Rebel  column.  This  they  were  to 
do  so  evenly  and  ingeniously,  that  the  Rebels  should  go  no 
farther  than  their  works,  either  to  escape  eastward  or  to 
discover  the  whereabouts  of  Warren's  forces,  which  were 
already  forming.  Had  they  espied  the  latter  they  might 
have  become  so  discouraged  as  to  break  and  take  to  the 
woods  ;  and  Sheridan's  object  was  to  capture  them  as  well 
as  to  rout  them.  So,  all  the  afternoon,  the  cavalry  pushed 
them  hard,  and  the  strife  went  on  uninterruptedly  and  ter- 
rifically. I  have  no  space  in  this  hurried  despatch  to  ad- 
vert either  to  individual  losses  or  to  the  many  thrilling 
episodes  of  the  fight.  It  wars  fought  at  so  close  quarters 
that  our  carbines  were  never  out  of  range  ;  for  had  this  been 
otherwise,  the  long  rifles  of  the  enemy  would  have  given 
them  every  advantage.  With  their  horses  within  call,  the 
cavalry-men,  in  line  of  battle,  stood  together  like  walls  of 
stone,  swelling  onward  like  those  gradually  elevating  ridges 
of  which  Lyell  speaks.  Now  and  then  a  detachment  of 
Rebels  would  charge  down  upon  us,  swaying  the  lines  and 


320  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT. 

threatening  to  annihilate  us  ;  for  at  no  part  of  the  action, 
till  its  crisis,  did  the  Southern  men  exhibit  either  doubt  or 
dismay,  but  fought  up  to  the  standard  of  the  most  valiant 
treason  the  world  has  ever  had,  and  here  and  there  show- 
ing some  of  those  wonderful  feats  of  individual  courage 
which  are  the  miracles  of  the  time. 

A  colonel  with  a  shattered  regiment  came  down  upon  us 
in  a  charge.  The  bayonets  were  fixed  ;  the  men  came  on 
with  a  yell ;  their  gray  uniforms  seemed  black  amidst  the 
smoke ;  their  preserved  colors,  torn  by  grape  and  ball, 
waved  yet  defiantly  ;  twice  they  halted,  and  poured  in  vol- 
leys, but  came  on  again  like  the  surge  from  the  fog,  de- 
pleted, but  determined ;  yet,  in  the  hot  faces  of  the  carbi- 
neers, they  read  a  purpose  as  resolute,  but  more  calm,  and, 
while  they  pressed  along,  swept  all  the  while  by  scathing 
volleys,  a  group  of  horsemen  took  them  in  flank.  It  was  an 
awful  instant ;  the  horses  recoiled ;  the  charging  column 
trembled  like  a  single  thing,  but  at  once  the  Rebels,  with 
rare  organization,  fell  into  a  hollow  square,  and  with  solid 
sheets  of  steel  defied  our  centaurs.  The  horsemen  rode 
around  them  in  vain ;  no  charge  could  break  the  shining 
squares,  until  our  dismounted  carbineers  poured  in  their 
volleys  afresh,  making  gaps  in  the  spent  ranks,  and  then  in 
their  wavering  time  the  cavalry  thundered  down.  The 
.Rebels  could  stand  no  more  ;  they  reeled  and  swayed,  and 
fell  back  broken  and  beaten.  And  on  the  ground  their  col- 
onel lay,  sealing  his  devotion  with  his  life. 

Through  wood  and  brake  and  swamp,  across  field  and 
trench,  we  pushed  the  fighting  defenders  steadily.  For  a 
part  of  the  time,  Sheridan  himself  was  there,  short  and 
broad,  and  active,  waving  his  hat,  giving  orders,  seldom 
out  of  fire,  but  never  stationary,  and  close  by  fell  the  long 
yellow  locks  of  Ouster,  sabre  extended,  fighting  like  a  Vi- 
king, though  he  was  worn  and  haggard  with  much  work. 
At  four  o'clock  the  Eebels  were  behind  their  wooden  walls  at 
Five  Forks,  and  still  the  cavalry  pressed  them  hard,  in  feint 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  321 

rather  than  solemn  effort,  while  a  battalion  dismounted, 
charged  squarely  upon  the  face  of  their  breastworks  which 
lay  in  the  main  on  the  north  side  of  the  White  Oak  road. 
Then,  while  the  cavalry  worked  round  toward  the  rear,  the 
infantry  of  Warrefl^  though  commanded  by  Sheridan,  pre- 
pared to  take  part  in  the  battle. 

The  genius  of  Sheridan's  movement  lay  in  his  disposition 
of  the  infantry.  The  skill  with  which  he  arranged  it,  and 
the  difficult  manoeuvres  he  projected  and  so  well  executed, 
should  place  him  as  high  in  infantry  tactics  as  he  has  here- 
tofore shown  himself  superior  in  cavalry.  The  infantry 
which  had  marched  at  2£  p.  M.  from  the  house  of  Boisseau, 
on  the  Boydtown  plank-road,  was  drawn  up  in  four  battle 
lines,  a  mile  or  more  in  length,  and  in  the  beginning  facing 
the  White  Oak  road  obliquely ;  the  left  or  pivot  was  the 
division  of  General  Ayres,  Crawford  had  the  -center  and 
Griffin  the  right.  These  advanced  from  the  Boydtown 
plank-road,  at  ten  o'clock,  while  Sheridan  was  thundering 
away  with  the  cavalry,  mounted  and  dismounted,  and  de- 
luding the  Eebels  with  the  idea  that  he  was  the  sole  attack- 
ing party  ;  they  lay  concealed  in  the  woods  behind  the 
Gravelly  Run  meeting-house,  but  their  left  was  not  a  half- 
mile  distant  from  the  Rebel  works,  though  their  right 
reached  so  far  off  that  a  novice  would  have  criticized  the 
position  sharply.  Little  by  little,  Sheridan,  extending  his 
lines,  drove  the  whole  Rebel  force  into  their  breastworks  ; 
then  he  dismounted  the  mass  of  his  cavalry  and  charged  the 
works  straight  in  the  front,  still  thundering  on  their  flank. 
At  last,  every  Rebel  was  safe  behind  his  intrenchments. 
Then  the  signal  was  given,  and  the  concealed  infantry,  many 
thousand  strong,  sprang  up  and  advanced  by  eQhelon  to  the 
right.  Imagine  a  great  barndoor  shutting  to,  and  you  have 
the  movement,  if  you  can  also  imagine  the  door  itself,  hinge 
and  all,  moving  forward  also.  This  was  the  door  :  — 

AYRES CRAWFORD GRIFFIN. 

Stick  a  pin  through  Ayres  and  turn  Griffin  arid  Crawford 


322  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NOX-COMBATAXT. 

forward  as  you  would  a  spoke  in  a  wheel,  but  move  your 
pin  up  also  a  very  little.  In  this  way  Ayres  will  advance, 
say  half  a  mile,  and  Griffin,  to  describe  a  quarter  revolution, 
will  move  through  a  radius  of  four  miles.  But  to  compli- 
cate this  movement  by  echelon,  we  must  imagine  the  right 
when  half  way  advanced  cutting  across  the  centre  and  re- 
forming, while  Crawford  became  the  right  and  Griffin  the 
middle  of  the  line  of  battle.  Warren  was  with  Crawford  on 
this  march.  Gregory  commanded  the  skirmishers.  Ayres 
was  so  close  to  the  Rebel  left  that  he  might  be  said  to  hinge 
upon  it;  and  at  6  o'clock  the  whole  corps  column  came 
crash  upon  the  full  flank  of  the  astonished  Rebels.  Now 
came  the  pitch  of  the  battle. 

We  were  already  on  the  Rebel  right  in  force,  and  thinly 
in  their  rear.  Our  carbineers  were  making  feint  to  charge  in 
direct  front,  and  our  infantry,  four  deep,  hemmed  in  their 
entire  left.  All  this  they  did  not  for  an  instant  note,  so 
thorough  was  their  confusion ;  but  seeing  it  directly,  they,  so 
far  from  giving  up,  concentrated  all  their  energy  and  fought 
like  fiends.  They  had  a  battery  in  position,  which  belched 
incessantly,  and  over  the  breastworks  their  musketry  made 
one  unbroken  roll,  while  against  Sheridan's  prowlers  on 
their  left,  by  skirmish  and  sortie,  they  stuck  to  their  sinking 
fortunes,  so  as  to  win  unwilling  applause  from  mouths  of 
wisest  censure. 

It  was  just  at  the  coming  up  of  the  infantry  that  Sheri- 
dan's little  band  was  pushed  the  hardest.  At  one  time, 
indeed,  they  seemed  about  to  undergo  extermination  ;  not 
that  they  wavered,  but  that  they  were  so  vastly  over- 
powered. It  will  remain  to  the  latest  time  a  matter  of 
marvel  that  so  paltry  a  cavalry  force  could  press  back  six- 
teen thousand  infantry  ;  but  when  the  infantry  blew  like  a 
great  barndoor  —  the  simile  best  applicable  —  upon  the 
enemy's  left,  the  victory  that  was  to  come  had  passed  the 
region  of  strategy  and  resolved  to  an  affair  of  personal 
courage.  We  had  met  the  enemy  ;  were  they  to  be  ours  ? 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT.  323 

To  expedite  this  consummation  every  officer  fought  as  if  he 
were  the  forlorn  hope.  Mounted  on  his  black  pony,  the 
same  which  he  rode  at  Winchester,  Sheridan  galloped 
everywhere,  his  flushed  face  all  the  redder,  and  his  plethoric, 
but  nervous  figure  all  the  more  ubiquitous.  He  galloped 
once  straight  down  the  Rebel  front,  with  but  a  handful  of 
his  staff.  A  dozen  bullets  whistled  for  him  together  ;  one 
grazed  his  arm,  at  which  a  faithful  orderly  rode ;  the  black 
pony  leaped  high,  in  fright,  and  Sheridan  was  untouched, 
but  the  orderly  lay  dead  in  the  field,  and  the  saddle  dashed 
afar  empty.  General  Warren  rode  with  Crawford  most  of 
the  afternoon,  mounted  likewise,  and  making  two  or  three 
narrow  escapes.  lie  was  dark,  dashing,  and  individual  as 
ever,  but  for  some  reason  or  other  was  relieved  of  his  com- 
mand after  the  battle,  and  Griffin  was  instated  in  his  place. 
General  Sheridan  ordered  Warren  to  report  to  General 
Grant's  head-quarters,  sending  the  order  by  an  aid.  Warren, 
on  his  own  hook,  did  not  meet  on  Friday  with  his  general 
success,  and  on  Saturday  Sheridan  was  the  master-spirit ; 
but  Warren  is  a  General  as  well  as  a  gentleman,  and  is  only 
overshadowed  by  a  greater  genius, — not  obliterated. 
Ayres,  accounted  the  best  soldier  in  the  Fifth  corps,  but  too 
quietly  modest  for  his  own  favor,  fought  like  a  lion  in  this 
pitch  of  battle,  making  all  the  faint-hearted  around  him 
ashamed  to  do  ill  with  such  an  example  contiguous.  General 
Bartlett,  keen-faced  and  active  like  a  fiery  scimitar,  was  lead- 
ing his  division  as  if  he  were  an  immortal !  He  was  closest 
at  hand  in  the  most  gallant  episodes,  and  held  at  nightfall  a 
bundle  of  captured  battle-flags.  But  Griffin,  tall  and  slight, 
was  the  master-genius  of  the  Fifth  corps,  to  which  by  right 
he  has  temporarily  succeeded.  He  led  the  charge  on  the 
flank,  and  was  the  first  to  mount  the  parapet  with  his  horse, 
riding  over  the  gunners  as  May  did  at  Cerro  Gordo,  and 
cutting  them  down.  Bartlett's  brigade,  behind  him, 
finished  the  business,  and  the  last  cannon  was  fired  for  the 
day  against  the  conquering  Federals.  General  Crawford 


324  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT. 

fulfilled  his  full  share  of  duties  throughout  the  day,  amply 
sustained  by  such  splendid  brigade  commanders  as  Baxter, 
Coulter,  and  Kellogg,  while  Gwiu  and  Boweryman  were  at 
hand  in  the  division  of  General  Ayres  ;  not  to  omit  the 
fallen  Winthrop,  who  died  to  save  a  friend  and  win  a  new 
laurel.  What  shall  I  say  for  Chamberlain,  who,  beyond  all 
question,  is  the  first  of  our  brigade  commanders,  having 
been  the  hero  of  both  Quaker  Road  and  Gravelly  Run,  and 
in  this  action  of  Five  Forks  making  the  air  ring  with  the 
applauding  huzzas  of  his  soldiers,  who  love  him  ?  His  is 
one  of  the  names  that  will  survive  the  common  wreck  of 
shoulder-straps  after  the  war. 

But  I  am  individualizing ;  the  fight,  as  we  closed  upon 
the  Rebels,  was  singularly  free  from  great  losses  on  our  side, 
though  desperate  as  any  contest  ever  fought  on  the  conti- 
nent. One  prolonged  roar  of  rifle  shook  the  afternoon  ;  we 
carried  no  artillery,  and  the  Rebel  battery,  until  its  capture, 
raked  us  like  an  irrepressible  demon,  and  at  every  foot  of 
the  intrcnchments  a  true  man  fought  both  in  front  and  be- 
hind. The  birds  of  the  forest  fled  afar  ;  the  smoke  ascended 
to  heaven  ;  locked  in  so  mad  frenzy,  none  saw  the  sequel 
of  the  closing  day.  Now  Richmond  rocked  in  her  high 
towers  to  watch  the  impending  issue,  but  soon  the  day  be- 
gan to  look  gray,  and  a  pale  moon  came  tremulously  out  to 
watch  the  meeting  squadrons.  Imagine  along  a  line  of  a 
full  mile,  thirty  thousand  men  struggling  for  life  and  pres- 
tige ;  the  woods  gathering  about  them  —  but  yesterday  the 
home  of  hermit  hawks  and  chipmonks  —  now  ablaze  with 
bursting  shells,  and  showing  in  the  dusk  the  curl  of  flames 
in  the  tangled  grass,  and,  rising  up  the  boles  of  the  pine 
trees,  the  scaling,  scorching  tongues.  Seven  hours  this 
terrible  spectacle  had  been  enacted,  but  the  finale  of  it  had 
almost  come. 

It  was  by  all  accounts  in  this  hour  of  victory  when  the 
modest  and  brave  General  Winthrop  of  the  first  brigade, 
Ayres  division,  was  mortallj7  wounded.  He  was  riding 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  325 

along  the  breastworks,  and  iu  the  act  as  I  am  assured,  of 
saving  a  friend's  life,  was  shot  through  to  the  left  lung. 
He  fell  at  once,  and  his  men,  who  loved  him,  gathered  around 
and  took  him  tenderly  to  the  rear,  where  he  died  before  the 
stretcher  on  which  he  lay  could  be  deposited  beside  the 
meeting-house  door.  On  the  way  from  the  field  to  the  hos- 
pital he  wandered  in  mind  at  times,  crying  out,  "  Captain 
Weaver  how  is  that  line  ?  Has  the  attack  succeeded  ?  " 
etc.  When  he  had  been  resuscitated  for  a  pause  he  said : 
"  Doctor,  I  am  done  for."  His  last  words  were  :  "  Straighten 
the  line  ! "  And  he  died  peacefully.  He  was  a  cousin  of 
Major  Winthrop,  the  author  of  "  Cecil  Dreeme."  He  was 
twenty-seven  years  of  age.  I  had  talked  with  him  before 
going  into  action,  as  he  sat  at  the  side  of  General  Ayres, 
and  was  permitted  by  the  guard  of  honor  to  uncover  his 
face  and  look  upon  it.  lie  was  pale  and  beautiful,  marble 
rather  than  corpse,  and  the  uniform  cut  away  from  his 
bosom  showed  how  white  and  fresh  was  the  body,  so  pulse- 
less now. 

General  Griffin  said  tome:  "This  victory  is  not  worth 
Winthrop's  life.7' 

Winthrop  went  into  the  service  as  a  simple  color-bearer. 
He  died  a  brevet  brigadier. 

At  seven  o'clock  the  Kebels  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
they  were  outflanked  and  whipped,  They  had  been  so 
busily  engaged  that  they  were  a  long  time  finding  out  how 
desperate  were  their  circumstances ;  but  now,  wearied  with 
pei'sistent  assaults  in  front,  they  fell  back  to  the  left,  only 
to  see  four  close  lines  of  battle  waiting  to  drive  them  across 
the  field,  decimated.  At  the  right  the  horsemen  charged 
them  in  their  vain  attempt  to  fight  "  out,"  and  in  the  rear 
straggling  foot  and  cavalry  began  also  to  assemble  ;  slant  fire 
cross  fire,  and  direct  fire,  by  file  and  volley  rolled  in  perpet- 
ually, cutting  down  their  bravest  officers  and  strewing  the 
fields  with  bleeding  men  ;  groans  resounded  in  the  intervals 
28 


326  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    XOX-COMBATAXT. 

of  exploding  powder,  and  to  add  to  their  terror  and  despair, 
their  own  artillery,  captured  from  them,  threw  into  their 
own  ranks,  from  its  old  position,  ungrateful  grape  and  can- 
ister, enfilading  their  breastworks,  whizzing  and  plunging 
by  air  line  and  ricochet,  and  at  last  bodies  of  cavalry  fairly 
mounted  their  intrenchments,  and  charged  down  the  para- 
pet, slashing  and  trampling  them,  and  producing  inexplica- 
ble confusion.  They  had  no  commanders,  at  least  no  or- 
ders, and  looked  in  vain  for  some  guiding  hand  to  lead  them 
out  of  a  toil  into  which  they  had  fallen  so  bravely  and  so 
blindly.  A  few  more  volleys,  a  new  and  irresistible  charge, 
a  shrill  and  warning  command  to  die  or  surrender,  and, 
with  a  sullen  and  tearful  impulse,  five  thousand  muskets 
are  flung  upon  the  ground,  and  five  thousand  hot,  exhausted, 
and  impotent  men  are  Sheridan's  prisoners  of  war. 

Acting  with  his  usual  decision,  Sheridan  placed  his  cap- 
tives in  care  of  a  provost-guard,  and  sent  them  at  once  to 
the  rear.  Those  which  escaped,  he  ordered  the  fiery  Ouster 
to  pursue  with  brand  and  vengeance  ;  and  they  were  pressed 
far  into  the  desolate  forest,  spent  and  hungry,  many  falling 
by  the  way  of  wounds  or  exhaustion,  many  pressed  down 
by  hoof  or  sabre-stroke,  and  many  picked  up  in  mercy  and 
sent  back  to  rejoin  their  brethren  in  bonds.  We  captured 
in  all  fully  six  thousand  prisoners.  General  Sheridan  esti- 
mated them  modestly  at  five  thousand,  but  the  provost-mar- 
shal assured  me  that  he  had  a  line  four  abreast  a  full  mile 
long.  I  entirely  bear  him  out,  having  ridden  for  forty  min- 
utes in  a  direction  opposite  to  that  they  were  taking,  and 
growing  weary  at  last  of  counting  or  of  seeing  them.  They 
were  fine,  hearty  fellows,  almost  all  Virginians,  and  seemed 
to  take  their  capture  not  unkindly.  They  wore  the  gray 
and  not  very  attractive  uniform  of  the  Confederacy,  but 
looked  to  be  warm  and  fat,  and  passing  along  in  the  night, 
under  the  fir-trees,  conveyed  at  most  a  romantic  idea  of 
grief  and  tribulation.  They  were  put  in  a  huge  pen,  mid- 
way between  Big  and  Little  Five  Forks,  for  the  night,  the 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NOX-COMBATANT.  327 

officers  sharing  the  same  fare  with  the  soldiers,  from  whom, 
indeed,  they  were  undistinguishable. 

Thus  ended  the  splendid  victory  of  Five  Forks,  the  least 
bloody  to  us,  but  the  most  successful,  proportionate  to 
numbers  engaged,  that  has  been  fought  during  the  war. 
One  man  out  of  every  three  engaged  took  a  prisoner.  We 
captured  four  cannon,  an  ambulance  train  and  baggage- 
teams,  eight  thousand  muskets,  and  twenty-eight  battle- 
flags.  General  Longstreet,  it  is  thought,  commanded. 
Neither  he  nor  Pickett  nor  Bushrod  Johnston,  division  com- 
manders, were  taken ;  they  were  wise  enough  to  see  that 
the  day  was  lost,  and  imitated  Bonaparte  after  Waterloo. 

I  attribute  this  victory  almost  entirely  to  Sheridan ;  it 
was  won  by  strategy  and  persistence,  and  in  great  part  by 
men  who  would  not  stand  fire  the  day  before.  The  happy 
distribution  of  duties  between  cavalry  and  infantry  excited 
a  fine  rivalry,  and  the  consciousness  of  Sheridan's  guidance 
inspired  confidence.  Has  any  battle  so  successful  ever  been 
fought  in  Virginia  ?  or,  indeed,  in  the  East  ?  I  think  not. 
It  has  opened  to  us  the  enemy's  flank,  so  that  we  can  sweep 
down  upon  the  Appomattox  and  inside  of  his  breastworks, 
enabling  us  to  shorten  our  lines  of  intrenchments  one  half, 
if  no  more,  and  putting  out  of  Lee's  service  fifteen  thou- 
sand of  his  choicest  troops.  And  all  this,  General  Sheridan 
tells  me,  has  cost  him  personally  no  more  than  eight  hun- 
dred men,  and  the  service  no  more  than  fifteen  hundred. 
Compare  this  with  Chancellorsville,  Williamsburg,  the  Wil- 
derness, Bull  Run,  and  what  shall  we  say  ?  The  enemy 
must  have  lost  in  this  fight  three  thousand  in  killed  and 
wounded. 

The  scene  at  Gravelly  Run  meeting-house  at  8  and  at  10 
o'clock  on  Saturday  night,  is  one  of  the  solemn  contrasts 
of  the  war,  and,  I  hope,  the  last  of  them.  A  little  frame 
church,  planted 'among  the  pines,  and  painted  white,  with 
cool,  green  window-shutters,  holds  at  its  foot  a  gallery  for 
the  negroes,  and  at  the  head  a  varnished  pulpit.  1  found  its 


328  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NOX-COMHATANT. 

pews  moved  to  the  green  plain  over  the  threshold,  and  on 
its  bare  floors  the  screaming  wounded.  Blood  ran  in  little 
rills  across  the  planks,  and,  human  feet  treading  in  them, 
had  made  indelible  prints  in  every  direction ;  the  pulpit- 
lamps  were  doing  duty,  not  to  shed  holy  light  upon  holy 
pages,  but  to  show  the  pale  and  dusty  faces  of  the  beseech- 
ing ;  and  as  they  moved  in  and  out,  the  groans  and  curses 
of  the  suffering  replace  the  gush  of  peaceful  hymns  and  the 
deep  responses  to  the  preacher's  prayers.  Federal  and 
Confederate  lay  together,  the  bitterness  of  noon  assuaged 
in  the  common  tribulation  of  the  night,  and  all  the  while 
came  in  the  dripping  stretchers,  to  place  in  this  golgotha 
new  recruits  for  death  and  sorrow.  I  asked  the  name  of 
the  church,  but  no  one  knew  any  more  than  if  it  had  been 
the  site  of  some  obsolete  heathen  worship.  At  last,  a  grin- 
ning sergeant  smacked  his  thumbs  as  if  the  first  idea  of  his 
life  had  occurred  to  him,  and  led  me  to  the  pulpit.  Beneath 
some  torn  blankets  and  rent  officers'  garments,  rested  the 
hymn  book  and  Bible,  which  he  produced.  Last  Sunday 
these  doled  out  the  praises  of  God,  and  the  frightened  con- 
gregation worshipped  at  their  dictation.  Now  they  only 
served  by  their  fly  leaves  to  give  rne  my  whereabouts,  and 
said  :  — 

Presented  to  Gravelly  Run  Meeting  House  by  the  Ladies. 

Over  the  portal,  the  scenes  within  were  reiterated,  except 
that  the  greatness  of  a  starry  night  replaced  the  close  and 
terrible  arena  of  the  church.  Beneath  the  trees,  where  the 
Methodist  circuit-rider  had  tied  his  horse,  and  the  urchins, 
during  class-meeting,  had  wandered  away  to  cast  stones 
at  the  squirrels,  and  measure  strength  at  vaulting  and  run- 
ning, the  gashed  and  fevered  lay  irregularly,  some  soul 
going  out  at  each  whiff  of  the  breeze  in  the  fir-tops ;  and 
the  teams  and  surgeons,  and  straggling  soldiers,  and  gal- 
loping orderlies  passed  all  the  night  beneath  the  old  and 
gibbous  moon  and  the  hushed  stars,  and  by  the  trickle  of 
Gravelly  Run  stealing  off,  afeared.  But  the  wounded  had 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  329 

no  thought  that  night ;  the  victory  absorbed  all  hearts  ;  we 
had  no  losses  to  notice  where  so  much  was  won. 

A  mile  pa«t  the  church,  going  away  from  head-quarters 
all  the  time,  lies  Five  Forks,  the  object  and  name  of  the 
battle.  A  large  open  field  of  perhaps  thirty  acres,  inter- 
poses between  the  church  and  the  commencement  of  the 
Rebel  works.  Their  left  is  only  some  rails  and  logs  to  mask 
marksmen,  but  the  work  proper  is  a  very  long  stretch  of 
all  obstructions  of  a  man's  height  in  relief. 

The  White  Oak  road  runs  directly  in  front  of  these  in- 
trenchments,  and  was,  at  the  time  I  passed,  the  general 
highway  for  infantry  returning  from  the  field  and  cavalry- 
men concentrating  at  General  Sheridan's  bivouac.  Riding  a 
mile  I  came  upon  the  Five  Forks  proper,  and  just  to  the 
left,  at  the  foot  of  some  pines,  the  victor  and  his  assistants 
were  congregated.  Sheridan  sat  by  some  fagots,  exam- 
ining a  topographical  map  of  the  country  he  had  so  well 
traversed ;  possibly  with  a  view  to  design^further  aggres- 
sive movements  in  the  morning.  He  is  opposite  me  now 
as  I  pen  these  paragraphs  by  the  imperfect  blaze  of  his 
bivouac  fire.  He  is  good  humored  and  talkative,  like  all 
men  conscious  of  having  achieved  a  great  work,  and  has 
been  good  enough  to  sketch  for  me  the  plan  of  the  day's 
operations,  from  which  I  have  compiled  much  of  the  statement 
above.  Close  by  lies  Ouster,  trying  to  sleep,  his  long  yel- 
low hair  covering  his  face ;  and  General  Griffin,  now  com- 
manding the  Fifth  corps,  goes  here  and  there  issuing  orders, 
while  aides  and  orderlies  rode  in  and  out,  bearing  further 
fresh  messages  of  deeds  consummated  or  proposed.  We 
shall  have  a  hot  night  no  doubt,  for  away  off  to  the  right, 
continue  volleys  of  musketry  and  discharges  of  artillery, 
intermixed  with  what  seem  to  be  thunderbolts  of  our  men- 
of-war  at  anchor  in  the  Appomatox  and  James,  —  if  such 
can  be  heard  at  this  great  distance,  —  which  tell  us  that  the 
lines  are  in  motion. 
28* 


CHAPTEE  XXX. 

RICHMOND   DKSOLATE. 

THE  scenes  of  entering  the  doomed  stronghold,  when 
Grant  had  burst  its  gates,  ought  to  be  made  vivid  as  the 
spectacle  of  death.  With  my  good  and  talented  associate, 
Mr.  Jerome  B.  Stillson,  I  hold  the  Spotswood  Hotel,  and 
from  this  caravansary  of  the  late  capital  as  thoroughly  iden- 
tified with  Rebellion  as  the  inn  at  Bethlehem  with  the  gos- 
pel, we  date  our  joint  paragraphs  upon  the  condition  of  the 
city.  A  week  cannot  have  exhausted  the  curiosity  of  the 
North  to  learn  the  exact  appearance  of  a  city  which  has 
stood  longer,  more  frequent,  and  more  persistent  sieges, 
than  any  in  Christendom.  This  town  is  the  Rebellion  ;  it 
is  all  that  we  have  directly  striven  for ;  quitting  it,  the 
Confederate  leaders  have  quitted  their  sheet-anchor,  their 
roof-tree,  their  abiding  hope.  Its  history  is  the  epitome  of 
the  whole  contest,  and  to  us,  shivering  our  thunderbolts 
against  it  for  more  that  four  years,  Richmond  is  still  a  mys- 
tery.' 

Know  then,  that,  whether  coming  from  Washington  or 
Baltimore,  the  two  points  of  embarkation,  all  bound  hither- 
ward  must  rendezvous  at  Fortress  Monroe  ;  thence,  in  such 
excellent  steamers  as  the  Dictator,  start  up  the  broad  James 
River.  To  own  a  country-house  upon  the  "Jeems"  river 
is  the  Virginia  gentleman's  ultimate  aspiration.  There, 
with  a  tobacco-farm,  and  wide  wheatlands,  his  feet  on  his 
front-porch  rails,  a  Havana  cigar  between  his  teeth,  and  a 

(330) 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NON-COMBATANT.  331 

colored  person  to  bring  him  frequent  jxileps,  the  Virginia 
gentleman,  confident  in  the  divinity  of  slavery,  hopes  in  his 
natural,  refined  idleness,  to  watch  the  little  family  grave- 
yard close  up  to  his  threshold,  till  it  shall  kindly  open  and 
give  him  sepulture. 

Elsewhere  men  aim  to  be  successful,  or  enterprising,  or 
eloquent,  or  scholarly,  but  that  nobleness  of  hospitality, 
high  spirit,  dignity,  and  affability  which  constitute  our  idea 
of  chivalry  is  everywhere  save  here  an  exotic.  We  say 
that  chivalry  is  "  played  out,"  and  that  the  prestige  of 
"first  families"  is  gone  with  the  hurried  retreat  before 
"Grant's  salamanders.  Not  so.  Secession  as  a  cause  is  past 
the  range  of  possibilities.  But  no  people  in  their  subjuga- 
tion wear  a  better  front  than  these  brave  old  spirits,  whose 
lives  are  not  their  own.  Fire  has  ravaged  their  beautiful 
city,  soldiers  of  the  color  of  their  servants,  guard  the  cross- 
ings and  pace  the  pavement  with  bayoneted  muskets.  But 
gentlemen  they  are  still,  in  every  pace,  and  inch,  and  sylla- 
ble,—  such  men  as  we  were  wont  to  call  brothers  and 
countrymen.  However,  the  James  River,  at  which  we  com- 
menced, has  not  a  town  upon  it  between  the  sea  and  the 
head  of  navigation.  It  is  a  strong  commentary  upon  this 
patriarchal  civilization,  judged  by  our  gregarious  tastes, 
that  one  of  the  noblest  streams  in  the  world  should  show  to 
the  traveller  only  here  and  there  a  pleasant  mansion,  flanked 
by  negro  cabins,  but  nowhere  a  church-spire  nor  a  steam- 
mill.  All  that  we  see  from  Fortress  Monroe  to  City  Point 
are  ridges  of  breastworks,  rifle-pits,  and  forts,  lying  bare, 
yellow,  and  deserted,  to  defend  its  passage,  excepting  at 
James  Island,  where  the  solitary  and  broken  tower  of  the 
ancient  colony  holds  guard  over  some  bramble  and  ruin. 
Here  Smith  founded  the  celebrated  settlement,  which  wooed 
to  its  threshold  the  gentle  Pocahontas,  and  fell  to  fragments 
at  the  behest  of  the  fiery  Bacon.  The  ramparts  on  the 
James  will  remain  forever ;  great  as  they  are,  they  would 
hardly  hold  the  bones  of  the  slain  in  the  capture  and  defence. 


332  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   XOX-COMBATANT. 

Four  hours  from  Fortress  Monroe  we  pass  Harrison's  Land- 
ing, where  two  grand  armies,  beaten  aside  from  Richmond, 
sought  the  shelter  of  the  river,  and  at  City  Point  quit  our 
large  craft,  to  be  transferred  to  a  light  draught  vessel, 
which  is  to  carry  the  first  mail  going  to  Richmond  under  the 
national  flag  since  the  beginning  of  the  war. 

City  Point  is  still  a  populous  place,  and  the  millions  of 
mules  upon  it  bray  hoarsely  ;  but  we  leave  all  these  behind, 
as  well  as  the  national  standard,  which  flaunts  over  General 
Grant's  late  head-quarters,  and  steam  past  the  mouth  of  the 
Appomattox  to  go  through  the  enemy's  lines. 

Henceforward  every  foot  of  the  way  is  freshly  interesting. 
The  Rebel  ram  Atlanta  in  tow  of  a  couple  of  tugs,  goes  past 
us  with  a  torpedo  boat  at  the  rear.  She  is  raking,  slant, 
and  formidable;  but  "old  glory"  is  waving  on  her.  Di- 
rectly our  own  leviathan,  the  Roanoke  drifts  up,  and  all  her 
storm-throated  tars  cheer  like  the  belch  of  her  guns.  We 
see  to  the  right,  the  tip  of  Malvern  Hill,  ever  sorrowful  and 
sacred,  and  soon  a  great  unfinished  ram  careens  by,  which 
never  grew  to  battle-size  ;  the  true  colors  shine  above  her 
bulwarks  like  a  flower  growing  iu  a  carcass.  Then  at  little 
intervals  there  are  frequent  prizes  from  the  docks  of  Rich- 
mond, tugs,  transports,  barges,  some  of  which  show  under 
our  beautiful  banner  the  Rebel  cross,  pale  and  contemptible. 
These  malcontents  committed  as  great  crime  against  good 
taste  in  substituting  for  our  starry  emblem  this  artistic 
abomination,  as  against  law  and  policy  in  changing  the 
configuration  of  the  Union.  There  is  another  flag,  however, 
which  we  see,  half  exultantly,  half  vindictively,  —  the  cross 
of  St.  George,  — flying  from  a  British  cutter. 

By  and  by  we  come  to  our  intrenchments  upon  the  upper 
James  and  at  Bermuda  Hundred.  Now  they  are  very  list- 
less and  half  empty.  The  boys  have  gone  off  to  tread  on 
Lee's  shanks.  Only  a  few  vessels  stand  at  the  landings, 
and  the  few  remnants  have  laid  down  the  rifle,  and  taken  up 
the  fishing-pole.  One  should  come  up  this  river  to  get 


CAMPAIGNS    OP   A    NON-COMBATANT.  333 

a  conception  of  our  splendid  navy.  Sharp-pointed  gun- 
boats, with  bullet-proof  crows'  nests  and'  swivels  that  are 
the  gentlest  murderers  ever  polished  ;  monitors  through 
whose  eyeholes  a  ball  a  big  as  a  cook-stove  squints  from  a 
columbiad  socket ;  ferry-boats  which  are  speckled  with  brass 
cannon,  and  all  sorts  of  craft  that  can  float  and  manoeuvre, 
provided  they  look  at  us  through  deadly  muzzles  are  there 
to  the  number  of  fifty  or  sixty,  as  many  as  make  the  entire 
navies  of  all  other  American  nations.  After  the  war  we 
must  have  a  great  naval  review,  and  invite  all  the  crowned 
heads  to  attend  it.  Soon  we  reach  Dutch  Gap,  where  lies 
*  Butler's  canal,  or  "  Butter's  gut,"  as  the  sailors  call  it. 
The  river  at  this  point  is  so  crooked  that  Butler  must  have 
laid  it  out  by  the  aid  of  his  wrong  eye.  The  canal  is  meant 
to  cut  on  a  long  elbow  ;  but  being  almost  at  right  angles  to 
the  course  of  the  river,  only  the  most  obliging  tide  would 
run  through  it.  As  a  consequence,  it  is  a  sort  of  a  sluice 
merely,  of  insufficient  width,  and  as  a  "sight"  very  disap- 
pointing to  great  expectations.  Between  the  points  of 
debouch  of  this  canal  crosses  a  drawbridge  of  pontoons,  for 
the  use  of  our  troops,  and  just  beyond  it  Aiken's  Landing, 
where  the  flag  of  truce  boat  stopped.  A  fine  brick  mansion 
stands  in  shore,  with  a  wharf  abreast  it.  The  banks  around 
it  are  trodden  here  with  many  feet.  These  are  the  traces 
of  the  poor  prisoners  who  reached  here,  fevered,  and  starv- 
ing and  naked,  to  catch  for  the  first  time  the  sight  of  cool 
waters  and  friends,  and  the  bright  flag  which  they  had  fol- 
lowed to  the  edge  of  the  grave.  How  they  threw  up  their 
hats,  and  cheered  to  the  feeblest,  and  wept,  and  danced, 
and  laughed.  Long  be  the  place  remembered,  as  holy, 
neutral  ground,  where  death  never  trod,  and  multitudes 
passed  from  suffering,  to  freedom  and  home.  Beyond  this 
point,  the  most  formidable  Rebel  works  we  have  seen,  line 
the  high  bluffs  and  ridges.  They  are  monuments  of  patient 
labor,  and  make  of  themselves  hills  as  great  as  nature's. 
But  the  siege  pieces,  which  often  bellowed  upon  them  like 


334  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NON-COMBATANT. 

thunderbolts  along  the  mountain-tops,  are  gone  now,  and 
only  straggling,  meddling  fellows  pass  them  at  all.  The 
highest  of  these  works  commands  both  ends  of  the  Dutch 
Gap  canal,  and  while  our  lads  were  digging  they  often  hid 
themselves  in  caves  which  they  dug  in  the  cliff-sides. 

We  reach  the  first  torpedo  at  length  ;  a  little  red  flag 
marks  it,  by  which  the  boat  slips  tremulously,  though 
another  and  another  are  before,  at  the  sight  of  which  our 
nervous  folks  are  agitated.  Here  is  a  monitor  with  a  drag 
behind  it,  which  has  just  fished  Tip  one  ;  and  the  sequel  is 
told  by  a  bloody  and  motionless  figure  upon  the  deck. 
These  torpedoes  are  the  true  dragon  teeth  of  Cadmus,  which 
spring  up  armed  men. 

Happily  for  us,  the  Rebels  have  sown  but  few  of  them, 
and  the  position  of  these  was  pointed  out  by  one  of  their 
captains  who  deserted  to  our  side.  In  the  midst  of  these 
lie  the  obstructions.  Great  hulks  of  vessels  and  chained 
spars,  and  tree-tops  which  reach  quite  across  the  river,  ex- 
cept where  our  pioneers  have  hewn  a  little  gap  to  let  the 
steamer  through.  Upon  these  obstructions  a  hundred 
cannon  bear  from  the  cliffs  before  us,  and  as  we  go  further 
we  see  the  whole  river-bed  sprinkled  with  strange  contriv- 
ances to  keep  back  our  thunder-bearers.  We  think  it  abso- 
lutely impossible,  under  any  circumstances,  that  our  fleet 
could  have  got  to  Richmond  so  long  as  the  Rebels  contested 
the  passage  ;  each  step  forward  finds  new  and  greater  ob- 
stacles. The  channel  is  as  narrow  as  Harlem  River  and  as 
crooked  as  a  walk  in  the  ramble  of  Central  Park.  Each 
elbow  of  the  stream  is  muscular  with  snag  and  snare  wher- 
ever the  swift  stream  swoops  around  abruptly.  Jagged 
abatis,  driven  piles,  and  artificial  lumber,  bar  the  way  be- 
fore us.  To  the  right  of  us,  to  the  left  of  us,  behind  us, 
stand  up  the  bare  parapets,  crowned  with  airy  lookout 
towers,  where,  at  the  coming  of  a  nautilus,  the  whole  hori- 
zon and  foreground  would  rain  crossfires  of  shell  and  iron 
bolts,  to  sweep  into  annihilation  the  tiniest  or  the  staurichest 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  335 

opposition  from  the  earth's  surface,  and  under  the  earth  and 
above  the  earth  death  waited  to  leap  up  and  draw  the  daring 
to  its  bosom.  Not  one,  nor  two,  nor  three  lines  of  defences 
frowned  down  as  we  cautiously  steamed  along,  but  every 
precipice  was  bristling  with  defiance,  as  if  the  deep  subter- 
ranean fires  underlying  our  race  had  burst  here  fitfully  and 
frequently,  heaving  up  the  swells  of  the  hills  till  they 
lay  hard  and  barren  for  human  ingenuity  to  garnish  them 
with  anxious  artillery.  All  along  were  the  deep  funnel- 
shaped  cases  of  the  torpedoes  just  disentombed.  But  at 
nightfall  Drury's  Bluff  flitted  by  like  the  battlemented  wall 
of  a  city,  and  then  we  saw  no  more. 

The  band  that  greeted  us  from  a  distance  stops  playing 
as  the  boat  nears  the  wharf. 

There  is  a  stillness,  in  the  midst  of  which  Richmond,  with 
her  ruins,  her  spectral  roof,  afar,  and  her  unchanging  spires, 
rests  beneath  a  ghastly,  fitful  glare, —  the  night  stain  which 
a  great  conflagration  leaves  behind  it  for  weeks, —  struggling 
silently  with  colossal  shadows  along  the  foreground,  two 
hideous  walls  alone  arise  in  front,  shutting  these  gleams. 
They  are  the  Libby  Prison  and  Castle  Thunder.  Right  and 
left,  and  far  in  the  moonlighted  perspective  beyond,  there 
is  a  soft  glitter  upon  cornices  and  domes.  A  haggard  glow 
of  candles,  faintly  defines  the  thoroughfares  that  have  not 
suffered  ruin  ;  while  massive,  and  upon  a  height  overlooking 
all,  stands  the  Capitol,  flying  its  black  shadow  from  the 
sinking  moon  across  a  hundred  crumbling  walls,  until  its 
edges  touch  the  windows  of  the  Libby. 

But  over  its  massive  roof,  dimly  seen  through  the  mists 
of  the  river,  and,  as  before,  "  through  the  mists  of  the  deep," 
the  banner  of  the  Union,  banished  for  four  years,  is  shaken 
out  again,  broad  and  beautiful,  by  the  breath  of  an  April 
night.  Upon  the  face  of  every  leaning  figure  on  the  steam- 
er's deck,  in  sight  of  that  radiant  signal,  is  the  same  half- 
melancholy,  half-triumphant  smile. 

The  thought  of  the  battle  which  has  passed,  of  the  army, 


33 6  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT. 

which,  after  struggling  through  years  for  this  majestic  pro- 
cession, has  swept  by  and  beyond  without  the  view  for 
which  its  straining  eyes  have  yearned,  is  sad  and  strange. 
There  comes  back  dimly  suggestive,  a  story  of  Iran  and  his 
host,  thundering  at  the  gates  of  Tupelo,  for  the  possession  of 
a  wondrous  jewel,  and  awakening  once  upon  a  dawn  to 
learn  that  Tupelo  was  an  empty  casket, —  to  turn  back 
longing,  "  wondering  eyes  upon  the  city,  and  to  hunt  the 
fleeing  prize  afar."  Yet  unto  those  legions  of  the  republic 
which  have  emptied  Eichmond  of  a  prize  which  yet  they  may 
have  easily  clutched,  there  go  out  reverence  and  blessing 
even  larger  than  might  be  bestowed  upon  them  resting  in 
camp,  upon  these  overlooking  hills.  That  true  allegiance, 
that  calm  and  stern  self-sacrifice  which  impels  an  army  for- 
ward past  the  sweet  applauses  and  rewarding  calms  to 
which  great  victories  might  entitle  it,  are  the  purest  sources 
of  its  glory  and  its  fame.  God  bless  the  army  that  has  per- 
mitted us  to  consummate  this  journey  and  to  gaze  upon  this 
spectacle,  while  it  does  not  impress  us  too  proudly,  too  tri- 
umphantly. Both  pride  and  triumph  have,  of  course,  a 
place  in  the  tumultuous  feeling  that  surges  through  the  hearts 
of  all ;  yet  as  in  every  true  man  is  born  an  instinct  of  com- 
passion for  a  fallen  foe,  we  prefer  that  the  shout  should  go 
up  in  honor  of  our  victory  alone,  and  not  because  these 
have  suffered. 

The  boat  touches  the  shore  at  Rockett's,  the  foot  of  Rich- 
mond. A  few  minutes'  walk  and  we  tread  the  pavements 
of  the  capital.  There  are  no  noisy  and  no  beseeching  run- 
ners ;  there  is  no  sound  of  life,  but  the  stillness  of  a  cata- 
comb, only  as  our  footsteps  fall  dull  on  the  deserted  side- 
walk, and  a  funeral  troop  of  echoes  bump  their  elfin  heads 
against  the  dead  walls  and  closed  shutters  in  reply,  and  this 
is  Richmond.  Says  a  melancholy  voice  :  "  And  this  is 
Richmond." 

We  are  under  the  shadow  of  ruins.  From  the  pavements 
where  we  walk  far  off  into  the  gradual  curtain  of  the  night, 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NOX-COMBATANT.  337 

stretches  a  vista  of  desolation.  The  hundreds  of  fabrics, 
the  millions  of  wealth,  that  crumbled 'less  than  a  week  ago 
beneath  one  fiery  kiss,  here  topple  and  moulder  into  rest. 
A  white  smoke-wreath  rising  occasionally,  enwraps  a  shat- 
tered wall  as  in  a  shroud.  A  gleam  of  flame  shoots  a  gro- 
tesque picture  of  broken  arches  and  ragged  chimneys  into 
the  brain.  Huge  piles  of  debris  begin  to  encumber  the 
sidewalks,  and  even  the  pavements,  as  we  go  on.  The 
streets  in  some  places  are  quite  choked  up  from  walking. 
We  are  among  the  ruins  of  half  a  city.  The  wreck,  the 
loneliness,  seem  interminable.  The  memory  of  lights  in 
houses  above,  beheld  while  upon  the  steamer,  alone  keeps 
despondency  from  a  victory  over  hope ;  and  although  the 
continued  existence  of  the  Spottswood*  Hotel  is  vouched 
for  by  authority,  my  lodge  in  such  a  wilderness  seems  next 
to  impossible.  Away  to  the  right,  above  the  waste  of 
blackened  walls,  around  the  phantom-looking  flag  upon  the 
capitol,  —  the  only  sign  betwixt  heaven  and  earth,  or  upon 
the  earth,  that  Richmond  is  not  wholly  deserted,  —  beyond 
and  out  of  the  ruins,  we  walk  past  one  of  two  open  door- 
ways where  the  moon  serves  as  candle  to  a  group  of  talk- 
ing negroes.  The  gas  works,  injured  by  fire,  are  not  work- 
ing, and  "ile"  has  not  been  struck  in  the  Confederacy. 
Not  a  white  man  appears  until  we  reach  the  Spottswood,  — 
there  before  the  entrance  is  a  conclave  of  officers,  — then,  at 
last,  entering,  we  stand  in  that  most  famous  of  Southern 
hotels,  the  interior  of  which  is  filled  with  the  very  aroma  of 
the  Rebellion.  A  thankful  yielding  up  of  carpet-bags  and 
valises  to  the  indignant  negro  waiters,  and  then  a  brief 
moonlight  stroll  toward  the  capitol. 

Within  the  gates  of  the  Square,  that  swing  on  their 
hinges  silent  as  the  hour  we  pass  alone,  before  us  stands 
the  magnificent  monument  crowned  with  Crawford's  eques- 
trian statue  of  Washington.  The  right  hand  of  the  rider, 
lifted  against  the  sky,  points  a  prophetic  finger  toward  the 
southwest.  Dark,  and  motionless,  and  grand,  it  is  the  one 
29 


338  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NOX-COMliATANT. 

symbol  belonging  solely  to  the  Union,  which  they  have  not 
dared  to  desecrate ;  which  they  have  strangely  chosen  to 
consider  neither  as  an  insult  nor  a  rebuke. 

Gazing  beyond  at  the  capitol  itself,  and  back  again  at  the 
figure  which  overlooks  the  building,  it  is  not  hard  to  imag- 
ine that,  while  the  noisy  debates  of  a  congress  of  traitors 
to  the  Union  that  he  founded  were  in  progress,  those  bronze 
lips  sometimes  smiled  in  scorn. 

Leaving  Eichmond  proper,  and  descending  into  the  low, 
squalid  portion  of  the  town  known  as  Rocketts,  one  sees 
among  the  many  large  warehouses,  used  without  exception 
for  the  storage  of  tobacco,  a  certain  one  more  irregular  than 
the  rest.  An  archway  leads  into  it,  and  upon  the  outside 
of  the  second  story  windows  runs  a  long  ledge  or  footway, 
whereupon  sentries  used  to  stride,  guarding  the  miserable 
people  within.  This  is  the  jail  of  Castle  Thunder,  and  it  was 
the  civil  or  State  prison  of  the  capital.  Ill  as  were  the  accom- 
modations of  prisoners  of  war,  the  treatment  of  their  own 
unoffending  citizens  by  the  Rebel  government  was  ten  times 
more  infamous.  We  could  not  repress  indignation,  nor  by 
any  philosophic  or  charitable  effort  excuse  the  atrocious 
tyranny  which  here  lashed,  chained,  handcuffed,  tortured, 
shot,  and  hung,  hundreds  of  people  whom  it  could  not  stul- 
tify or  impress.  We  may  grant  that  the  Confederacy  had 
become  a  government ;  that,  in  its  perilous  incipiency,  it 
had  apology  for  severity  and  rigor  with  all  malcontents  ; 
that,  in  its  own  struggle  for  death  or  life,  it  might,  in  self- 
defence,  absorb  all  private  liberty  ;  but  even  thus  the  ter- 
rible testimony  of  this  Castle  Thunder  is  an  everlasting 
stigma  upon  the  Southern  cause.  We  entered  its  strong- 
portal,  and  there  in  the  new  commandant's  room  lay  the 
record  left  behind  by  the  Confederates.  Its  pages  made 
one  shudder. 

These  are  some  of  the  entries  :  — 

"George  Barton,  —  giving  food  to  Federal  prisoners  ol 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    Is' OX -COM  BAT  ANT.  339 

war  ;  forty  lashes  upon  the  bare  back.  Approved.  Sen- 
tence carried  into  effect  July  2. 

"Peter  B.  Innis,  —  passing  forged  government  notes; 
chain  and  ball  for  twelve  months  ;  forty  lashes  a  day.  Ap- 
proved. 

"  Arthur  Wright,  —  attempting  to  desert  to  the  enemy  ; 
sentenced  to  be  shot.  Approved.  Carried  into  effect, 
March  26. 

"  John  Morton,  —  communicating  with  the  enemy  ;  to  be 
hung.  Approved.  Carried  into  effect,  March  26." 

In  an  inner  room  are  some  fifty  pairs  of  balls  and  chains, 
with  anklets  and  handcuffs  upon  them,  which  have  bent  the 
spirit  and  body  of  many  a  resisting  heart.  Within  are  two 
condemned  cells,  perfectly  dark,  —  a  faded  flap  over  the 
window  peep-hole,  —  the  smell  from  which  would  knock  a 
strong  man  down. 

For  in  their  centre  lies  the  sink,  ever  open,  and  the  floors 
are  sappy  with  uncleanliness.  To  the  right  of  these,  a  door 
leads  to  a  walled  yard  not  forty  feet  long,  nor  fifteen  wide, 
overlooked  by  the  barred  windows  of  the  main  prison  rooms, 
and  by  sentry  boxes  upon  the  wall-top.  Here  the  wretched 
were  shot  and  hung  in  sight  of  their  trembling  comrades. 
The  brick  wall  at  the  foot  of  the  yard  is  scarred  and  crushed 
by  balls  and  bullets  which  first  passed  through  some  human 
heart  and  wrote  here  their  damning  testimony.  The  gal- 
lows had  been  suspended  from  a  wing  in  the  ledge,  and  in 
mid-air  the  impotent  captive  swung,  none  daring  or  willing 
to  say  a  good  word  for  him  ;  and  not  for  any  offence  against 
God's  law,  not  for  wronging  his  neighbor,  or  shedding 
blood,  or  making  his  kind  miserable,  but  for  standing  in  the 
way  of  an  upstart  organization,  which  his  impulse  and  his 
judgment  alike  impelled  him  to  oppose.  This  little  yard, 
bullet-marked,  close,  and  shut  from  all  sympathy,  is  to  us 
the  ghastliest  spot  in  the  world.  Can  Mr.  Davis  visit  it, 
and  pray  as  he  does  so  devoutly  afterward  ?  When  men 


340  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

plead  the  justice  of  the  South,  and  arguments  are  prompt  to 
favor  them,  let  this  prison  yard  rise  up  and  say  that  no  such 
crimes  in  liberty's  name  have  ever  been  committed,  on  this 
continent,  at  least.  Up  stairs,  in  Castle  Thunder,  there  are 
two  or  three  large  rooms,  barred  and  dimly  lit,  and  two  or 
three  series  of  condemned  cells,  pent-up  and  pitchy,  where, 
by  a  refinement  of  cruelty,  the  ceiling  has  been  built  low  so 
that  no  man  can  stand  upright.  Here  fifteen  or  twenty  were 
crowded  together,  and,  in  the  burning  atmosphere,  they 
stripped  themselves  stark  naked,  so  that  when  in  the  morn- 
ing the  cell-doors  were  opened,  they  came  forth  as  from  the 
grave,  begging  for  death.  There  are  women's  cells  too  ; 
for  this  great  and  valiant  government  recognized  women  as 
belligerents,  and  locked  them  up  close  to  a  sentry's  cart- 
ridge, so  that,  in  the  bitterness  of  solitude,  they  were  un- 
sexed,  and  railed,  and  blasphemed,  like  wanton  things.  On 
the  pavements  before  the  jail,  were  hidden  numberless 
guards,  who  shot  at  every  rag  fluttering  from  the  cages,  and 
all  this  little  circle  of  death  and  terror  was  enacted  close  to 
the  bright  river,  and  airy  pediment  of  that  high  capitol,  where 
bold  men  hoped  by  war  to  wring  from  a  reluctant  Union,  ac- 
knowledgment of  arrogant  independence  to  rein  civilization 
as  it  pleased,  and  warp  the  destinies  of  our  race. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE   RUINS    OF   THE    REBELLION. 

WHEN  Bichrnond  was  a  plain  city,  a  county  seat,  and 
the  residence  of  a  governor  and  commonwealth  legislature, 
its  enterprise  was  as  gradual  as  its  hospitality  and  private 
probity  were  steadfast.  It  was  always  a  fierce  political 
arena,  and  its  two  great  journals,  the  Whig  and  Enquirer, 
were  not  more  violently  partisan  than  its  hustings.  In  the 
latter  its  debaters  were  wide-famed.  No  such  "  stump  " 
has  ever  existed  in  America,  commencing  with  Patrick 
Henry,  whose  eloquence  was  as  intense  and  telling  as  his 
statesmanship  was  errant  and  inconsistent,  and  passing 
through  the  shrill  and  bitter  apostrophies  of  John  Randolph 
down  to  the  latest  era  of  Henry  A.  Wise,  the  most  suffer- 
able  and  interminable  campaign  orator  extant,  and  John 
Minor  Botts,  scarcely  his  inferior.  With  us,  out  of  door 
rhetoric  is  dry,  studied,  and  argumentative  ;  here  an  inspira- 
tion, based  upon  feeling  rather  than  reason,  and  so  earnest 
that  it  knew  no  personal  friendship  where  its  political  affini- 
ties stopped.  Whig  and  Democrat  were  not  men  of  the 
same  race  or  family  in  Richmond  ;  they  passed  each  other 
on  the  sidewalk  with  a  sneer  or  a  scowl,  and  knew  no  coali- 
tion even  in  the  house  of  God.  Even  when  the  Whig 
party  as  an  organization  deceased,  the  Whigs,  as  individu- 
als, retained  their  traditional  antipathy,  and  the  advent  of 
secession  was  decried  by  these,  not  because  they  loved  the 
Union  more,  but  the  triumphant  Democracy  the  less.  Sep- 
29*  . 


342  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

aration  was  a  feature  of  the  hated  faith,  and  no  good  could 
come  out  of  Nazareth.  The  Union  men  of  Kichmond  who 
have  hungered  in  Castle  Thunder,  and  been  driven,  needy 
and  naked,  from  the  South,  were  all  old  line  Whigs,  dis- 
trusting the  North,  but  disliking  Democracy.  However, 
the  war  burst  at  last,  heralded  by  that  mysterious  lunatic 
who  appeared  like  a  warning  giant  in  the  twilight  day  of 
the  Union,  —  old  John  Brown  ;  and  as  the  Gulf  States 
wheeled  into  line  and  pulled  down  the  old  colors,  the  Old 
Dominion,  Southern  and  slaveholding,  was  too  impulsive 
not  to  follow  the  whirlwind.  She  did  not  go  for  policy's 
sake,  nor  for  principle's  sake,  but  for  emotion's  sake.  How 
wild  and  jubilant,  and  confident,  were  those  Richmond  mass 
meetings,  at  which  separation  was  counselled  I  How  awful 
seems  their  levity  at  this  distance,  with  the  city  conquered 
and  in  ruins !  On  the  Capitol  Hill  the  mad  orators  in- 
veighed ;  within  the  Capitol  met  the  disunion  assembly  in 
secret  and  prolonged  session  ;  before  the  American,  the  Ex- 
change, and  the  Spottswood  hotels,  visiting  commissioners 
harangued  the  crowd ;  the  people  went  to  ballot  on  the  day 
of  State  suicide,  with  laughing  and  wagging,  and  at  the  de- 
cree that  Virginia  and  her  people  had  resolved  to  quit  the 
fabric  of  their  fathers,  bonfires  and  illuminations  lit  up  the 
river  and  the  sky. 

Done,  these  were  the  men  to  stand  fast.  Done  in  dream, 
the  first  acts  were  mirages  rather  than  comprehensible 
events.  They  marched  upon  Harper's  Ferry ;  they  sup- 
pressed the  Unionists  in  their  midst ;  they  erased  the  sacred 
mottoes  of  amity  and  unity  from  their  monuments,  and  won 
to  the  new  cause  they  so  blindly  embraced  every  inch  of 
their  soil  except  Old  Point,  where  Fortress  Monroe  still 
stood  defiant,  to  be  in  the  end  the  source  of  their  downfall. 
Gayly  went  the  populace  of  Richmond,  and  splendid  parties 
made  the  nights  lustrous.  When  they  heard  that  their  town 
was  mentioned,  among  many  others,  as  the  probable  Con- 
federate capital,  they  threw  their  hearts  into  the  suggestion 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    NOX-COMBATANT.  343 

and  offered  lands  and  edifices  as  free  gifts  for  the  honor  of 
being  the  centre  of  the  South.  A  few,  more  interested, 
beheld  in  the  coming  of  the  seat  of  government  higher  rents 
and  increased  patronage,  crowded  hotels,  and  railway  stock 
at  a  premium  ;  but  the  mass,  with  the  enthusiasm  of  women 
or  children,  thought  only  of  their  beloved  city  growing  in 
rank  and  power;  the  home  of  legislators,  orators,  and 
savans  ;  the  seat  of  all  rank  and  the  depository  of  archives. 
At  last  the  good  news  came  ;  Richmond  was  the  capital  of 
a  great  nation  ;  that  courtesy  bound  all  grateful  Virginian 
hearts  to  the  common  cause  forever  ;  the  heyday  and  gratu- 
lation  were  renewed  ;  the  new  President,  and  the  reverend 
senators  appeared  on  Richmond  streets ;  the  citizens  were 
proud  an  1  happy. 

There  was  no  spectre  of  the  mighty  North,  slowly  rising 
from  lethargy  like  those  Medicean  figures  of  Michael  Angelo, 
which  leap  from  stone  to  avengers.  There  was  no  mutter 
of  coming  storm,  no  clank  of  coming  sabres  and  bayonets, 
no  creak  of  great  wheels  rolling  southward,  and  war  in  its 
extremest  and  most  deadly  phase.  Richmond  and  Virginia 
laughed  at  these,  flushed  in  the  present,  and  invincible  in 
the  past.  They  only  held  high  heads,  —  and  trade,  with 
vanity,  grew  strong,  till  every  citizen  wondered  why  all  this 
glory  had  been  so  long  delayed,  and  despised  the  ten  years 
preceding  the  rupture,  if  not,  indeed,  the  whole  past  of  the 
Union. 

The  President  of  the  United  States  proclaimed  war ;  an 
army  marched  upon  the  city.  Not  until  the  battle  of  Bull 
Run,  when  the  dead  and  mangled  came  by  hundreds  into 
the  town,  did  any  one  discover  the  consequences  of  Rich- 
mond's new  distinction  ;  but  by  this  time  the  Rebel  gov- 
ernment had  absorbed  Virginia,  and  was  master  of  the  city. 
Thenceforward  Richmond  was  the  scene  of  all  terrors,  the 
prey  of  all  fears  and  passions.  Campaign  after  campaign 
was  directed  against  her  ;  she  lived  in  the  perpetual  thun- 
der of  cannon  ;  raiders  pressed  to  her  gates ;  she  was  a 


344  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   XOX-C03IDATANT. 

great  garrison  and  hospital  only,  besieged  and  cut  off  from 
her  own  provinces  ;  armies  passed  through  her  to  the  sound 
of  drums,  and  returned  to  the  creak  of  ambulances.  She 
lost  her  social  prestige,  and  became  a  barrack-city,  filled 
with  sutlers,  adventurers,  and  refugees,  till,  bearing  bravely 
up  amid  domestic  riot  and  horrible  demoralization,  —  a  jail, 
a  navy-yard,  a  base  of  operations,  —  she  grew  pinched,  and 
base,  and  haggard,  and,  at  last,  deserted.  Given  over  to 
sack  and  fire,  the  wretches  who  used  her  retreated  in  the 
night,  and  the  enemies  she  had  provoked  marched  over  her 
defences,  and  laid  her — spent,  degenerate,  and  disgraced — 
under  martial  law. 

The  outline  of  the  scenes  immediately  associated  with  the 
evacuation  of  Richmond  has  been  told  by  telegraph.  Now 
that  the  stupefied  citizens  have  recovered  reason  and  mem- 
ory so  well  as  to  tell  us  the  story,  it  seems  the  most  dra- 
matic and  fearful  of  the  war.  On  Saturday  the  city  was 
cairn  and  trusting  ;  Lee,  its  idol,  held  Grant,  at  Petersburg, 
fast ;  the  daily  journals  came  out  as  usual,  filled  with 
soothing  accounts  ;  that  night  came  vague  rumors  of  re- 
verses ;  in  the  morning  vaguer  rumors  of'evacuation  ;  by 
Sunday  night  the  public  records  were  burned  in  the  streets, 
and  the  only  remaining  railway  carried  off  the  specie  of 
the  banks  ;  before  daylight  on  Monday,  the  explosions  of 
bridges  and  half-built  ships  of  war  shook  the  houses  ;  in  the 
imperfect  day,  women,  and  old  men,  and  children  began  to 
sway  and  surge  before  the  guarded  depot,  which  refused  to 
admit  them  ;  then  the  town  fell  afire  ;  no  remonstrance 
could  pacify  the  incendiaries  ;  the  spring  wind  carried  the 
flame  from  the  burning  boats  on  the  canal  to  the  great  Gal- 
ligo  Mills,  to  files  of  massive  warehouses  groaning  with 
tobacco,  into  the  heart  of  the  town,  where  stores,  and 
vaults,  and  banks,  and  factories  lined  the  wide,  undulating 
streets  ;  it  filled  the  gray  concave  with  flame  till  the  stars 
of  the  dawn  shrank  to  pale  invisibility  in  the  advancing 
glare,  and  the  crackle  of  hot  roofs  and  beams,  and  the  crash 


CAMPAIGNS   OF  A  NOX-COMBATAXT.  345 

of  walls  and  timbers,  drowned  the  cries  of  the  frightened 
and  bankrupt,  who  beheld  their  fortunes  wither  in  an  hour, 
and  the  inheritance  of  their  children  fall  to  ashes.  By  the 
red,  consuming  light,  poured  past  the  straggling  Confeder- 
ate soldiers,  dead  to  the  acknowledgment  of  private  rights, 
and  sacking  shop  and  home  with  curses  and  ribaldry ;  the 
suburban  citizens  and  the  menial  negroes  adopted  their  ex- 
amples ;  carrying  off  whatever  came  next  their  hands,  and 
with  arms  full  of  "swag,"  dropping  it  in  the  highway, 
lured  by  some  dearer  plunder.  Negroes,  with  baskets  of 
stolen  champagne  and  rare  jars  of  tamarinds,  sought  their 
dusky  quarters  to  swill  and  carouse  ;  and  whites  of  the 
middle,  and  even  of  the  higher  class,  lent  themselves  to 
theft,  who,  before  this  debased  era,  would  have  died  before 
so  surrendering  their  honor.  All  was  peril,  terror,  and  li- 
cense ;  all  who  had  nothing  to  lose  were  thieves  ;  all  who 
had  anything  left  to  lose  were  cowards.  The  conflagration 
swept  through  the  densest,  proudest  blocks,  driving  off,  not 
only  the  resident  worthy,  but  the  resident  corrupt.  Where 
were  the  lewd  contractors,  who  had  hoarded  Confederate 
scrip  by  the  basest  exactions  ?  With  the  fall  of  the  capital 
their  dollars  dwindled  to  dust ;  four  years  of  crime  had  re- 
sulted in  beggary  ;  still,  with  grasping  palms,  they  adhered 
to  their  valueless  paper,  bearing  it  away.  But  of  all  the 
wretched,  the  Cyprians  were  the  foremost.  These  inhabited 
the  dense  and  business  part  of  the  town,  where  their  houses 
were  serried  and  compact ;  and,  driven  forth  by  the  fire, 
they  sought  the  street  in  their  plumes  and  calicoes,  to 
spend  a  cold  and  shivering  bivouac  in  the  square  of  the 
Capitol.  From  afar,  the  rich  men  of  Sunday  watched  the 
flames  of  Monday  sweeping  on  in  terrible  impetuosity, 
knowing  that  every  tongue  of  light  which  leaped  on  high 
carried  with  it  the  competence  they  had  sinned  to  acquire. 
And  behind  all,  plunderer,  incendiary,  and  straggler,  came 
the  one  vague,  overlapping,  dreadful  fear  of —  the  enemy. 
Would  they  finish  what  friends  had  commenced,  —  the  sack, 


34G  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

the  desolation,  the  slaughter  of  the  place  ?  Richmond  had 
cost  them  half  a  million  of  lives,  a  mountain  of  blood  and 
wealth,  four  years  of  deadly  struggle  ;  would  they  not 
complete  its  ruin  ? 

The  morning  came  ;  the  Confederates  were  gone  ;  cavalry 
in  blue  galloped  up  the  streets  ;  a  brigade  of  white  infantry 
filed  after  them ;  then  came  the  detested  negroes.  Behold! 
the  victors,  the  subjugators,  assist  to  quench  the  flames,  — 
and  Richmond  is  captured,  but  secure  ! 

Many  of  the  churches  were  open  on  the  Sunday  of  April 
9,  1865,  and  were  thinly  attended  by  the  more  adventurous 
of  the  citizens,  with  a  sprinkling  of  soldiers  and  Northern 
civilians.  Mr.  Woodbridge,  at  the  Monument  Church, 
built  on  the  site  of  a  famous  burnt  theatre,  prayed  for  "  all 
in  authority/'  and  held  his  tongue  upon  dangerous  topics. 
The  First  Baptist  Negro  Church  has  been  occupied  all  the 
week  by  Massachusetts  chaplains,  and  Northern  negro 
preachers,  who  have  talked  the  gospel  of  John  Brown  to 
gaping  audiences  of  wool,  white-eyeball,  and  ivory,  telling 
them  that  the  day  of  deliverance  has  come,  and  that  they 
have  only  to  possess  the  land  which  the  Lord  by  the  bayonet 
has  given  them.  To-day,  Mr.  Allen,  the  regular  white 
preacher,  occupied  the  pulpit,  and  told  the  negroes  that 
slavery  was  a  divine  institution,  which  would  continue  for- 
ever, and  that  the  duty  of  every  good  servant  was  to  stay 
at  home  and  mind  his  master.  Half  of  the  enlightened 
Africans  got  up  midway  of  the  discourse  and  left ;  the  rest 
were  in  doubt,  and  two  or  three  black  class-leaders,  whom 
the  parson  had'  wheeled  over,  prayed  lustily  that  the  Lord 
would  keep  Old  Virginny  from  new  ideas  arid  all  Yankee 
salvations ;  so  that  in  the  end  the  population  were  quite 
tangled  up,  as  much  so  as  if  they  had  read  the  book  of 
Revelation.  I  attended  Saint  Paul's,  the  fashionable  Episco- 
palian church,  where  Lee,  Davis,  Memminger,  and  the  rest 
had  been  communicants,  and  heard  Doctor  Minnegerode 
discourse.  He  was  one  of  the  Prussian  refugees  of  1848, 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  347 

mid,  though  a  hot  Jacobin  there,  became  a  more  bitter 
secessionist  here.  He  is  learned,  fluenL  and  thoughtful, 
but  speaks  with  a  slight  Teutonic  accent.  Jeff  Davis's  pew- 
was  occupied  by  nobody,  the  door  thereof  being  shut.  Jeff 
was  a  very  devout  man,  but  not  so  much  so  as  Lee,  who 
made  all  the  responses  fervently,  and  knelt  at  every  require- 
ment. This  church  is  capable  of  "seating"  fifteen  hun- 
dred persons,  has  galleries  running  entirely  around  it,  and 
is  si.istained  at  the  roof  within  by  composite  pilasters  of  plas- 
ter, and  at  the  pulpit  by  columns  of  mongrel  Corinthian ; 
the  tout  ensemble  is  very  excellent ;  a  darkey  sexton  gave  us 
a  pew,  and  there  were  some  handsome  ladies  present,  dark 
Richmond  beauties,  haughty  and  thinly  clothed,  with  only 
here  and  there  a  jockey-feathered  hat,  or  a  velvet  mantilla, 
to  tell  of  long  siege  and  privation.  We  saw  that  those  who 
dressed  the  shabbiest  had  yet  preserved  some  little  article 
of  jewelry  —  a  finger-ring,  a  brooch,  a  bracelet,  showing 
how  the  last  thing  in  woman  to  die  is  her  vanity.  Poor, 
proud  souls  !  Last  Sunday  many  of  them  were  heiresses  ; 
now  many  of  them  could  not  pay  the  expenses  of  their  own 
funerals.  There  were  some  Confederate  officers  in  the 
house.  They  reminded  me  of  the  captive  Jews  holding 
worship  in  their  gutted  Temple.  Some  ruffians  broke  into 
this  church  after  the  occupation,  and  wrote  ribaldry  in  the 
Bible  and  hymn-book.  Dr.  Minnegerode  dared  not  pray  for 
the  Confederate  States,  and  his  sermon  was  trite,  based 
upon  the  text  of  the  eleventh  chapter  of  the  Acts —  "  The 
disciples  were  first  called  Christians  in  Antioch."  In  the 
opening  lesson,  however,  he  aimed  poison  at  the  North, 
selecting  the  forty-fourth  and  following  Psalms,  commenc- 
ing, "We  have  heard  with  our  ears,  0  God!  our  fathers 
have  told  us,  what  work  Thou  didst  in  their  days,  in  the 
times  of  old."  Then  it  spoke  of  the  heathen  being  driven 
out  and  the  chosen  people  planted  ;  afflicted  by  God's  dis- 
favor, the  forefathers  held  the  territory,  and  the  generation 
extant  would  yet  rout  its  enemies.  But  now  the  old  stock 


348  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

were  put  to  shame,  a  reproach  to  their  neighbors  and  those 
that  dwelt  round  about  them.  "  Thou  hast  broken  us  in  the 
place  of  dragons,  and  covered  us  with  the  shadow  of  death," 
going  not  forth  with  our  armies,  bowing  our  souls  to  the 
dust  till  our  bellies  cleave  unto  the  earth  ;  we  are  killed  all 
the  day  long,  and  counted  as  sheep  for  the  slaughter. 

Let  all  who  would  drink  the  essence  of  sorrow  arid 
anguish,  read  this  wonderful  Psalm,  to  learn  how  after  this 
recapitulation,  the  parson  said  aloud  the  thrilling  invoca- 
tion. 

"  Arise  !  for  our  help,  and  redeem  us  for  thy  mercies7 
sake." 

Then  came  the  next  Psalm,  light  and  tripping,  full  of 
praise  for  the  king  and  his  bride,  coming  to  the  nuptials 
with  her  virgin  train  :  "  instead  of  thy  fathers,  shall  be  thy 
children,  whom  thou  mayst  make  princes  in  all  the  earth." 
A  poetic  parallel  might  be  drawn  between  all  this  and  the 
early  hopes  of  Richmond  ;  but  the  third  Psalm  came  in  like 
a  beautiful  peroration. 

"  God  is  our  refuge  and  strength,  a  very  present  help  in 
trouble,  —  the  Lord  of  Hosts  is  with  us,  the  God  of  Jacob 
is  our  refuge.  Selah  !  He  maketh  wars  to  cease  unto  the 
end  of  the  earth ;  he  breaketh  the  bow  and  cutteth  the 
spear  in  sunder ;  he  burneth  the  chariot  in  the  fire." 

Clear,  direct,  and  in  meaning  monotone,  the  captive  high- 
priest  read  all  this,  so  fearfully  applicable  to  the  subjugated 
and  ruined  town,-  and  then  the  organ  threw  its  tender  music 
into  the  half-empty  concave,  sobbing  like  a  far  voice  of 
multitudes,  until  the  sweet  singing  of  Madame  Kuhl,  the 
chorister,  swept  into  the  moan  of  pipes,  and  rose  to  a  grand 
peal,  quivering  and  trilling,  like  a  nightingale  wounded, 
making  more  tears  than  the  sublimest  operatic  effort  and  the 
house  reeled  and  trembled,  as  if  Miriam  and  her  chanting 
virgins  were  lifting  praises  to  God  in  the  midst  of  the 
desert. 

That  part  of  the  New  Testament  read,  by  some  strange 


CAMPAIGNS   OF  A   NOX-COMBATANT.  349 

fatuity,  touches  also  the  despair  of  the  city.  It  told  of 
Christ  betrayed  by  Iscariot,  deserted  by  his  disciples,  say- 
ing- to  his  few  trusty  ones:  "I  will  smite  the  shepherd, 
and  the  sheep  of  the  flock  shall  be  scattered  abroad." 
"Can  ye  not  watch  with  me  one  hour?"  he  says  to  the 
liinid  and  sleeping-;  and  turning  to  his  conquerors,  avers 
that  the  Son  of  Man  shall  return  to  Jerusalem,  "  sitting 
on  the  right  hand  of  power,  and  coming  in  the  clouds  of 
heaven."  All  this,  of  course,  was  the  prescribed  lesson  for 
the  Sunday  before  Easter,  which  to-day  happened  to  be ;  but 
had  the  pastor  searched  it  out  to  meet  the  exigencies  of  the 
place  and  time,  it  could  not  have  been  more  apropos.  He 
read  also  from  Daniel,  where  the  king's  dream  was  inter- 
preted ;  his  realm,  like  a  tree  worn  down  to  the  root,  and 
the  king  himself  making  his  dwelling  with  the  wild  asses, 
but  in  the  end  "  thy  kingdom  shall  be  sure  unto  thee,  after 
that  thou  shalt  have  known  that  the  heavens  do  rule." 

Again  the  organ  rang,  and  the  wonderful  voice  of  the 
choristers  alternated  with  deep  religious  prayers,  whose 
refrain  was,  "Have  mercy  upon  us." 

Only  one  Sunday  gone  by,  the  church  was  densely  packed 
with  Rebel  officers  and  people  ;  Mrs.  Lee  was  there,  and  the 
president,  in  his  high  and  whitened  hairs.  Midway  of  the 
discourse  a  telegram  came  tip  the  aisle,  borne  by  a  rapid 
orderly.  The  president  read  it,  and  strode  away;  the 
preacher  read  it,  and  faltered,  and  turned  pale  ;  it  said  : 

My  lines  are  broken  ;  Richmond  must  be  evacuated  by  midnight. 

EGBERT  E.  LEE. 

Ill  news  travels  without  words  ;  the  whole  house  felt  that 
the  great  calamity  had  come ;  they  broke  for  the  doors,  and 
left  the  rector,  alone  and  frightened,  to  finish  the  solemn 
services. 

Now  the  enemy  is  here ;  the  music  and  the  prayer  are 
not  interrupted.  God  is  over  all,  whether  Davis  or  Lincoln 
be  uppermost. 

80 


350  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NOX-COMBATANT. 

This  campaign,  so  gloriously  and  promptly  finished,  has 
consumed  just  eleven  days.  It  took  three  to  flank  the  Rebel 
army,  one  to  capture  Petersburg,  one  to  occupy  Richmond, 
and  six  to  pursue,  overtake,  and  capture  the  Army  of 
Northern  Virginia.  No  such  memorable  fighting  has  ever 
been  known  on  our  continent,  and  it  parallels  the  Italian, 
the  Austerlitz,  and  the  Jena  campaigns  ;  in  breadth  of  con- 
ception, it  outrivals  them  all ;  it  took  less  men  to  do  it  than 
the  last  two  ;  it  shows  equal  sagacity  with  any  of  them,  but 
none  of  their  brilliant  episodes  ;  and,  unlike  them,  we  can- 
not trace  its  full  credit  to  any  single  personality.  It  has 
made  the  army  immortal,  but  the  lustre  of  it  is  diffused,  not 
concentrating  upon  any  single  head.  Grant  must  be  cred- 
ited with  most  of  the  combinations  ;  yet  without  the  genius 
and  activity  of  Sheridan,  the  bewildering  rapidity  of  Sher- 
man, and  the  steadfastness  of  such  reliable  men  as  Wright, 
Parke,  and  Griffin,  these  combinations  would  have  fallen 
apart.  It  is  said  that  Stoneman  and  Sheridan  were  to  have 
joined  their  separate  cavalry  commands  at  Lynchburg,  and 
effect  a  simultaneous  junction  with  the  Army  of  the  Poto- 
mac. This  failed,  through  a  miscalculation  of  distance  or 
time  ;  but  had  they  succeeded,  we  should  have  been  less 
than  three  days  in  turning  Lee's  right,  and  so  made  the 
campaign  even  more  concise.  But  Grant's  talent  has  been 
marked  and  signal.  He  is  the  long-expected  "coming 
man.';  None  can  be  lukewarm  in  surveying  the  nice  ad- 
justment of  so  many  separate  and  converging  routes  to  a 
grand  series  of  victorH^.  Sherman  leaves  the  Rebellion  no 
Gulf  city  to  inhabit,  and  cuts  off  Lee's  retreat  while  he  ab- 
sorbs Johnston  ;  the  navy  closes  the  last  seaport ;  Sheridan 
severs  all  communication  with  Richmond,  and  swells  the 
central  forces  ;  then  the  Rebels  are  lured  from  their  lines 
and  scattered  on  their  right ;  the  same  night  the  intrench- 
ments  of  Petersburg  are  stormed,  Richmond  falls  as  this 
prop  is  removed,  being  already  hungry-hearted,  and  the 
flushed  army  falls  upon  Lee  and  finishes  the  war.  Is  not 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT,  351 

this  work  for  gratulation  ?     Glory  to  the  army,  perfect  at 
last,  and  to  Grant,  to  Sheridan,  to  each  of  its  commanders ! 

Let  us  not  do  injustice  to  Lee.  His  tactics  at  the  close 
of  his  career  were  as  brilliant  as  necessity  would  permit. 
He  could  not  feed  Kichmond,  even  though  its  impregnable 
works  were  behind  him  to  retire  to.  So  he  gave  his  govern- 
ment time  to  evacuate,  and,  with  his  thinned  and  famishing 
ranks,  made  a  bold  push  to  join  Johnston,  some  of  whose 
battalions  had  already  reinforced  him ;  overtaken  on  the 
way,  and  punished  anew,  he  did  as  any  great  and  humane 
commander  would  do,  —  stopped  the  effusion  of  blood  use- 
lessly, and  gave  up  his  sword. 

Unless  Davis  has  been  captured,  we  would  think  it  im- 
probable that  he  had  given  up  the  Rebel  cause.  He  was 
born  to  revolutionize,  containing  within  himself  all  the  ele- 
ments of  a  Rebel  leader,  and  too  proud  to  yield,  even  when, 
like  Macbeth,  pursued  to  his  castle-keep.  I  am  assured  by 
those  who  know  him  best  that  he  has  been,  throughout,  the 
absolute  master  of  the  Confederacy,  overawing  Lee,  who, 
from  the  first,  was  a  reluctant  Rebel ;  and  his  design  was, 
until  abandoned  by  his  army,  to  hold  Richmond,  even 
through  starvation,  making,  behind  its  tremendous  fortifica- 
tions, a  defence  like  that  of  Lcyderi  or  Genoa. 

There  is  no  more  faith  in  the  Rebellion  ;  it  will  be  a  long- 
time before  the  United  States  is  greatly  beloved,  but  it  will 
be  always  obeyed.  Our  soldiers  look  well,  most  of  them 
being  newly  uniformed,  and  behave  like  gentlemen.  Cour- 
tesy will  conquer  all  that  bayonets  have  not  won.  The 
burnt  district  is  still  hideously  yawning  in  the  heart  of  the 
town,  a  monument  to  the  sternness  of  those  bold  revolu- 
tionists who  are  being  hunted  to  their  last  quarry.  Des- 
potism, under  the  plea  of  necessity,  has  met  with  its  end 
here  as  it  must  everywhere.  We  shall  have  no  more  ex- 
periments for  libert}'  out  of  the  Union,  if  the  new  Union 
will  grant  all  that  it  gave  before.  Yesterday,  when  our 
splendid  levies  were  paraded  in  the  street,  with  foot,  cav- 


3f>2  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT. 

airy,  and  cannon,  in  admirable  order,  and  kindly-eyed  men 
in  command,  I  looked  across  their  cleanly  lines,  tipped  with 
bayonets,  to  the  Capitol  they  had  won,  bearing  at  last  the 
tri-color  we  all  love  and  honor,  as  the  symbol  of  our  homes 
and  the  hope  of  the  world,  and  thought  how  more  grandly, 
even  in  her  ruin,  Richmond  stood  in  the  light  of  its  crowd- 
ing stars,  rather  than  the  den  of  a  desperate  cabal,  whose 
banner  was  known  in  no  city  nor  sea,  but  as  the  ensign  of 
corsairs,  and  hailed  only  by  fustian  peers,  now  rent  in  the 
grip  of  our  eagle,  and  without  a  fane  or  an  abiding-place. 
Let  us  go  on,  not  conquerors,  but  Republicans,  battering 
down  only  to  rebuild  more  gloriously,  —  not  narrowing  the 
path  of  any  man,  but  opening  to  high  and  low  a  broader 
destiny  and  a  purer  patriotism. 


CHAPTER  XXXH. 

WAR    EXECUTIONS. 

To  have  looked  upon  seventeen  being's  of  human  organ- 
ism, ambition,  sense  of  pain  and  of  disgrace,  brought  for- 
ward with  all  the  solemnities  of  a  living  funeral,  and 
launched  from  absolute  .cognition  to  direct  death,  should 
put  one  in  the  category  of  Calcraft,  Ketch,  and  Isaacs. 

Yet,  I  do  not  think  it  would  be_  right  to  so  classify  me. 
I  know  an  excellent  clergyman,  who  has  seen  and  assisted 
in  fifty  odd  exectitions.  He  says,  as  I  say,  that  each  new 
one  is  an  augmented  terror.  But  he  is  upon  the  spot  to 
smooth  the  felon's  troubled  spirit,  and  I  am  with  him  to 
teach  the  felon's  boon  companions  the  direness  of  the  pen- 
alty. Without  either  the  Chaplain  or  myself,  capital  pun- 
ishment would  lose  half  its  effectiveness. 

And  this  is  why  I  write  the  present  article,  —  to  relieve 
myself  from  the  pertinacious  inquiries  with  which  I  have 
been  assailed  since  my  return  from  the  melancholy  episodes 
of  the  executions  at  Washington.  I  am  button-holed  at 
every  corner,  and  put  through  a  cross-examination,  to 
which  Holt's  or  Binghanx's  had  no  searchingness  :  "  How 
did  Mrs.  Suratt  die  ?  "  "  Was  the  rope  attached  to  her 
left  ear?"  "What  sort  of  rope  was  it,  for  example?" 
"Do  her  pictures  look  like  her?"  "Pray  describe  how 
Payne  twisted,  and  whether  you  think  Atzeroth's  neck  was 
dislocated  ?  " 

And,  after  answering  these  questions,  replete  as  they  are 
SO*  (853) 


354  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    XOX-COMBATAXT. 

with  horrible  curiosity,  the  questioner  turns  away,  saying, 
"  Dear  me  !  I  wouldn't  see  a  man  hung  for  a  thousand  dol- 
lars." 

I  am  weary  of  such  hypocrisy,  and  I  shall,  in  this  paper, 
speak  of  some  executions  I  have  witnessed. 

I  was  quite  a  small  boy,  at  school,  when  my  chum  and 
model,  Bill  Everett,  dragged  me  off  to  Wayland's  Mill,  to 
see  old  Mrs.  Kitty  White  suspended.  She  was  a  very  in- 
famous old  woman,  who  had  been  in  the  habit  of  kidnap- 
ping black  children,  and  running  them  by  night  from  the 
Eastern  shore  across  the  bay  to  Virginia,  where  they  were 
sold.  If  they  became  noisy  and  obstreperous  before  they 
left  her  house,  and  suspicion  fell  upon  her,  she  clove  their 
skulls  with  a  hatchet,  and  buried  them  in  her  garden. 
When  finally  discovered,  the  remains  of  nearly  a  score 
marked  how  wholesale  had  been  her  wickedness. 

This  old  woman  was  very  drank  -when  she  came  to  be 
hanged,  and  so  was  the  sheriff  who  assisted  her.  She 
called  him  impolite  names,  and  carried  a  pipe  in  her  mouth, 
and  went  off  smoking  and  cursing.  I  remember  that  I  cried 
very  loudly,  so  that  Bill  Everett  had  to  choke  me,  and  saw 
ghosts  for  so  many  nights  succeeding,  that  Crouch,  our 
maid  of  all  work,  had  to  sit  at  my  bedside  till  I  fell 
asleep. 

The  atrocity  of  a  crime  makes  great  difference  in  one's 
desire  to  see  its  after  tragedy  ;  and  the  next  hanging  I 
attended  was  almost  world-famed.  Four  men  were  sus- 
pended for  shooting  down  an  entire  family  in  cold  blood. 
They  had  embarked  on  a  raid  of  robbery,  and  emerging  from 
the  barren  scrub  of  Delaware  Forest,  fell  upon  a  snug  and 
secluded  Maryland  farm-house,  where  the  farmer's  family 
were  taking  their  supper.  They  fired  through  the  ruddy 
windows,  and  brought  the  man  down  at  his  wife's  feet ;  she, 
in  turn,  fell  upon  her  threshold,  rushing  forth  into  the  dark- 
ness, and  the  remnant  of  the  family  perished  except  two 
little  boys,  who  slipped  away  and  gave  the  alarm. 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NOX-COJIBATAVf .  355 

The  jailer's  boys  of  Chestertown  went  to  school  with  me, 
and  I  was  invited  by  the  least  of  them  ,to  visit  the  jail,  — 
a  tumble-down  old  structure  with  goggly  windows,  and  so 
unsafe  that  the  felons  had  to  be  ironed  to  almost  their  own 
weight.  And  into  the  cell  where  the  four  fiends  were 
lying,  the  jailer's  big  boy,  for  a  big  joke,  pushed  me,  and 
locked  the  door  upon  me. 

I  was  alone  with  the  same  bloody-handed  men  who  had 
so  recently,  and  for  a  trifle  of  gold,  made  the  fireside  a 
shamble,  and  the  night  a  howling  terror. 

They  appreciated  the  joke,  and  drew  me  to  them,  while 
their  chains  clanked,  and  pressed  to  my  face  their  wild  and 
prickly  beards.  There  was  one  of  them,  named  Drummond, 
who  swore  he  would  cut  my  heart  out,  and  they  executed  a 
sort  of  death-tune  on  the  floor  with  their  balls  and  links.  I 
lost  all  knowledge  and  perception  in  my  fright,  and  cannot, 
at  this  interval,  remember  anything  succeeding,  but  the 
execution.  They  were  put  to  death  upon  a  single  long 
scaffold,  the  counterpart  of  that  erected  for  the  Booth  con- 
spirators, and  the  rope  attached  to  the  neck  of  the  least 
guilty,  broke  when  the  drop  fell,  and  cast  him  upon  the 
ground,  lacerated,  but  conscious,  to  be  picked  up  and  again 
suspended,  while  he  begged  for  life,  like  a  child. 

The  sixth  miscreant  murdered  from  revenge*  which  is  just 
a  trifle  better  than  avarice  :  his  girl  preferred  another,  and 
the  disappointed  man,  Bowen,  went  to  sea.  Returning,  he 
found  the  united  lovers  in  the  exultation  of  happiness  ;  a 
child  had  just  been  born  to  them,  and,  touched  by  their  con- 
tent, Bowen  gave  the  old  rival  his  hand,  and  asked  him  out 
to  accept  a  bumper.  They  drank  again  and  again,  —  the 
spirits  burning  their  blood  to  fire,  and  reviving  again  the 
Litter  story  of  Bowen's  love  and  shame.  Within  the  hour, 
the  husband  lay  at  the  jilted  man's  feet !  He  was  con- 
demned to  death,  and  I  undertook  to  describe  his  exit  for  a 
weekly  newspaper. 

Still  I  see  him,  broad  and  muscular,  climbing  the  gallows 


356  CAMPAIGNS    OF   A    NOX-COMBATANT. 

stair  with  his  peaked  cap,  deathly  white,  and  looking  up  at 
the  sun  as  if  he  dreaded  its  eye.  There  was  the  muttering 
of  prayers,  the  spasm  of  one  spectator  taken  sick  at  the 
crisis,  and  the  dull  thump  of  the  scaffold  falling  in. 

The  preacher  Harden,  who  fondled  his  wife  on  his  knee, 
and  fed  her  the  while  with  poison,  passed  away  so  re- 
cently, that  I  need  not  revive  the  scene  into  which  all  his 
bad  life  should  have  been  prolonged. 

The  death  of  Armstrong,  expiating  a  hypocrite's  life 
at  Philadelphia,  is  not  so  well  remembered :  he  killed  an 
old  man  in  the  hoart  of  the  city,  riding  in  a  wagon,  and 
dumped  him  out  when  he  reached  the  suburbs.  His  life,  to 
the  end,  was  marked  by  all  insolence  and  infamy,  and  on 
the  day  of  the  execution,  he  made  a  pretended  confession, 
inculpating  two  innocent  persons.  One  hour  after  this,  he 
made  the  following  speech  :  — 

MY  FRIEXDS  :  I  have  a  few  words  to  say  to  you  ;  I  am 
going  to  die  ;  and  let  me  say,  in  passing,  I  die  in  peace  with 
my  Maker ;  and  if,  at  this  moment,  a  pardon  was  offered 
me  on  condition  of  giving  up  my  Maker,  I  would  not  take 
it ;  and  I  die  in  peace  with  all  the  world,  and  forgive  all  my 
enemies.  I  desire  you  to  take  warning  by  my  fate.  Sab- 
bath-breaking was  the  first  cause.  I  bid  you  farewell,  gen- 
tlemen, (here  he  mentioned  various  officers),  and  I  bid  you 
all  farewell.  I  die  in  peace  with  everybody. 

The  Sheriff,  very  nervous,  gave  a  signal  to  the  drop-man 
too  soon,  and  a  serious  accident  very  nearly  occurred.  The 
props  were  readjusted,  all  but  the  main  support  removed, 
and  that  unhinged  ;  the  Sheriff  waved  his  handkerchief,  and 
with  the  dead  thump  of  the  trap-lids  against  their  cushions, 
and  the  heavy  jerking  of  the  noose  knot  against  the  vic- 
tim's throat,  the  young  murderer  hung  dangling  in  the  air, 
not  a  limb  quivering,  and  only  a  convulsive  movement  of 
the  shoulders,  to  indicate  the  struggle  which  life  maintained 
when  giving  up  its  place  in  the  body. 


CAMPAIGNS    OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  357 

There  was  a  rush  forward.  The  doctors  grasped  his 
wrist.  Some  spectators  passed  their  hands  across  his 
knees  to  feel  the  tremulous  sinews  ;  one  or  two  felt  a 
faintness,  and  a  dozen  made  coarse  jokes ;  and  one  or  more 
speculated  as  to  the  issue  of  his  immortal  part,  or  the  de- 
gree of  his  pain,  or  the  probability  of  his  cognizance.  In 
seven  minutes  he  was  beyond  the  reach  of  execution  or  exe- 
cutioner, and  a  hurdle  being  wheeled  from  the  stable,  they 
cut  down  his  body,  while  a  few  scrambled  for  the  rope,  and 
it  was  wheeled  on  a  run  into  the  convict's  corridor  for  his 
old  father  to  claim.  The  neck  was  not  broken,  nor  the  flesh 
discolored.  Some  said  that  he  died  "  game  ;  "  and  all  went 
away,  leaving  the  old  man  and  a  brother  to  sit  by  the  re- 
mains and  weep,  that  so  great  calamity  had  darkened  their 
home  and  blighted  their  lives.  Few  lamented  him,  for  he 
had  youth,  but  none  of  its  elements  of  sympathy ;  and 
those  who  would  make,  even  of  his  dying  speech,  a  text 
and  a  lesson,  are  instancing  a  lie  more  grievous  than  the 
murder  which  he  did. 

In  England,  I  saw  two  men  and  a  woman  suffer  death  on 
the  common  sidewalk ;  just  as  if  we  were  to  hang  people  in 
New  York  on  the  pavement  before  the  Tombs. 

No  man,  anxious  to  see  an  execution  in  London,  need  be 
disappointed.  Once  or  twice  a  month  the  wolves  are 
brought  to  the  slaughter,  and  all  the  people  are  invited  to 
enjoy  the  spectacle.  A  woman,  one  Catharine  Wilson,  was 
to  be  hanged  for  poisoning.  She  was  middle  aged,  and  had 
been  reputable.  Her  manner  of  making  way  with  folks  was 
to  act  as  sick-nurse,  and  mingling  poison  with  their  medi- 
cine, possess  herself  of  the  trifles  upon  their  persons.  She 
had  sent  six  souls  to  their  account  in  this  way  ;  but,  dis- 
covered in  the  seventh  attempt,  all  the  other  cases  leaked 
out.  She  was  condemned,  of  course,  and  on  the  Sunday 
evening  previous  to  the  execution,  as  I  was  returning  from 
Spurgeon's  Tabernacle,  the  omnibus  upon  which  I  sat 
passed  through  the  Old  Bailey.  There  were  the  carpenters 


358  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NON-COMBATANT. 

joining   the   timbers   of  the   scaffold,    and   building   black 
barricades  across  the  street.     A  murmuring  crowd  stood 
around  in  the  solemn  night,  and  the  funereal  walls  of  old 
Newgate  glowered  like  a  horrible  vault  upon  the  dimly-lit 
street.    .  The  public  houses  across  the  way  were  filled  up  with 
guests.     All  the  front  parlors  and  front  bedrooms  had  been 
let  at  fat  prices,  and  suppers  were  spread  in  them  for  the 
edification  of  their  tenants.     Do  you  remember  the  thrilling 
chapter  of  "The  Jew's  last  night  alive,"  in  "  Oliver  Twist? " 
Well,  this  was  the  scene !     These  were  the  same  beams  and 
uprights.     There,  huge,  massive,  and  blackened  with  smoky 
years,  rose  the  cold,  impervious  stones ;  and  yonder,  cast- 
ing its  sharp  pinnacles  into  the  sky,  is  the  tower  of  St. 
Sepulchre's  Church,  where  the  bell  hangs  muffled  for  the 
morrow's  tolling  away  of  a  sinner's  life.     Old  Fagin  heard 
it,  though  it  was  no   new  sound  to  him ;  for  Field  Lane, 
where  he  kept  his  "fence,"  lies  a  very  little  way  off, — 
little  more  than  a  stone's  throw,  and  when,  in  the  morning, 
I  dressed  at  an  early  hour  and  hurried  to  the  place  of  exe- 
cution, I  saw  Charley  Bates,  and  the  Dodger,  and  Nancy, 
and  Toby  Crackit,  and  the  rest,  shying  men's  hats  in  the  air, 
and  looking  out  for  the  "wipes"  and  the  "tickers."     All 
the  streets  leading  to  Newgate  were  like  great  conduits, 
where  human  currents  babbled  along,  emptying  themselves 
into  the  Old  Bailey.     Mothers  by  the  dozen  were  out  with 
their  infants,  holding  them  aloft  tenderly,  to  show  them  the 
noose  and  the  cross-beam.     Fathers  came  with  their  sons, 
and  explained  very  carefully  to  them  the  method  of  strangu- 
lation.    Little  girls,  on  their  way  to  workshops,  had  turned 
aside  to  see  the  playful  affair,  and  traders  in  fancy  soap  and 
shoe-blacking,  pea-nuts  and  shrimps,  Banbury  cakes,  and 
Chelsea  buns,   and  Yarmouth   bloaters,  were  making  the 
morning  hilarious  with  their  odd  cries  and  speeches.     Along 
the  chimney-pots  of  Green  Arbour  Court,  where  Goldsmith 
penned  the  "  Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  lads  and  maidens  were 
climbing,  that  they  might  have  commanding  places.     There 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  359 

was  one  young  woman  who  had  some  difficulty  in  climbing 
over  a  battlement,  and  the  mob  hailed  her  failure  with  roars 
of  mirth.  But  she  persevered,  though  there  was  a  high 
wind  blowing,  and  then  called  loudly  for  her  male  attendant 
to  follow  her.  He  obeyed  dutifully,  and  they  both  seated 
themselves  upon  a  chirnney-top,  —  a  picture  of  love  re- 
warded, — -  and  waited  for  the  show.  The  momenta,  as 
marked  upon  St.  Sepulchre's  clock,  went  grudgingly,  as 
if  the  index-hands  were  unwilling  to  shoulder  the  responsi- 
bility of  what  was  to  come.  Meantime,  the  police  had  their 
hands  full ;  for  some  merry  urchins  were  darting  between 
their  legs,  and  it  was  dangerous  to  keep  one's  hat  on  his 
head,  for  it  hazarded  plucking  off  and  shying  here  and  there. 
At  the  chamber-windows  aforesaid,  crowded  the  tipsy  occu- 
pants, men  and  women,  red-eyed  with  drinking,  and  leering 
stupidly  upon  the  surging  heads  below.  Some  asked  if  Cal- 
craft  did  the  "job,"  and  others  volunteered  sketches  of  Cal- 
craft's  life.  One  man  boasted  that  he  had  taken  a  pot  of 
beer  with  him,  and  another,  added  that  the  hangman's  chil- 
dren and  his  own  went  to  school  together.  "  He  pockets," 
said  the  man,  "  two-pun  ten  for  every  one  he  drops,  besides 
his  travelling  expenses,  and  he  has  put  away  three  hundred 
and  twenty  folks.  He  is  a  clever  fellow,  is  Calcraft,  and  he 
is  going  to  retire  soon." 

So  the  hours  passed  ;  the  great  clock-hands  journeyed  on- 
ward ;  all  eyes  watched  them  attentively ;  suddenly  the 
deep  bells  struck  a  terrible  one  —  two  —  three  —  four  — 
five  —  six  —  seven  —  eight,  and  the  bells  of  the  neighbor- 
hood answered,  some  hoarsely,  others  musically,  others 
faintly,  as  if  ashamed. 

Before  the  tones  had  died  away,  three  persons  appeared 
•upon  the  scaffold,  —  a  woman,  pinioned  and  wearing  a  long, 
sharp,  snowy,  shrowdy,  death-cap  ;  a  man  in  loose  black 
robes  with  a  white  neckhandkerchief,  and  a  burly,  surly 
fellow,  in  black  cloth,  bareheaded,  and  having  a  curling 
jetty  beard  around  his  heavy  jaws.  It  is  but  a  moment, 


360  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   KOX-COMBATAXT. 

that,  standing  on  tiptoe,  you  catch  this  scene.  The  priest 
stretches  his  hand  toward  the  people,  and  says  some  unin- 
telligible words ;  those  of  the  mob  curse  each  other,  and 
some  scream  out  that  they  are  dying  in  the  press.  Then 
the  scaffold  is  clear ;  the  woman  stands  alone,  —  God  for- 
give her !  —  and  when  you  look  again,  a  bundle  of  old 
clothes,  tipped  with  a  sugar-loaf,  is  all  that  is  visible,  and 
the  gallows-cord  is  very  straight  and  tight.  For  the  last 
chapter,  consult  the  graveyard  within  the  jail  walls  ! 

The  guillotining  which  I  witnessed  in  Paris,  in  the  month 
of  June,  1864,  may  be  deemed  worthy  of  an  extended  de- 
scription :  — 

Gouty  de  la  Pommerais  was  a  young  physician  of  Paris, 
descended  from  a  fine  family,  and  educated  beyond  the  re- 
quirements of  a  French  Faculty.  He  was  handsome  and 
manly,  and  gave  evidences  of  ambition  at  an  early  age. 
He  was  popularly  called  the  Comte  de  la  Pommerais,  and 
at  the  time  of  his  apprehension,  was  expecting  a  decoration 
from  the  Papal  Government,  with  the  rank  he  desired. 
Like  all  French  students,  he  was  incontinent,  and  had  seve- 
ral mistresses.  The  last  of  these  was  a  widow  named  Pauw, 
who  appears  to  have  loved  him  sincerely.  She  had  some 
little  fortune,  which  they  consumed  together  ;  and  then  la 
Pommerais  married  a  rich  young  lady,  with  whom  he  lived 
one  year.  Her  mother  died  suddenly  at  the  end  of  that 
time,  and  as  la  Pommerais  was  interested  in  getting  certain 
moneys  which  the  elder  lady  controlled,  the  manner  of  her 
death  led  to  suspicions  of  poisoning.  However,  the  woman 
was  interred,  but  the  son-in-law  was  not  so  fortunate  as  he 
supposed,  and  he  ceased  to  live  with  his  wife,  but  returned 
to  Madame  Pauw,  who  still  adored  him.  Upon  this  fond, 
foolish  woman  he  seems  to  have  premeditated  a  deep  and 
intricate  crime  ;  and  it  was  for  this  that  he  suffered  death. 
She  must  have  been  dishonest  like  himself,  for  she  consented 
to  a  scheme  of  swindling  the  insurance  companies  ;  but,  un- 
like himself,  she  lacked  the  wit  to  be  silent,  and  was  heard 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  06 1 

| 

to  hint  mysteriously  that  she  should  soon  be  grand  and 
happy.  La  Pommerais  persuaded  her  to  have  her  life  in- 
sured, which  was  done  for  515,000  francs,  or  upward  of 
$100,000.  When  the  matter  had  transpired  some  time,  he 
persuaded  her  to  feign  sickness.  The  simple  woman  asked 
why  she  should  do  so. 

"  The  insurance  people,"  he  replied,  "  will,  when  they 
consider  that  you  are  dangerously  ill,  prefer  to  give  you 
100,000f.,  rather  than  pay  the  515,000f.  in  the  certainty  of 
your  death.  You  can  give  them  up  your  policy,  accept 
the  compromise,  get  well  again,  and  be  rich." 

Yet  this  counterfeited  sickness  was  meant  by  the  villian 
to  prepare  the  neighbors  of  Mme.  Pauw  for  the  death 
which  he  intended  to  ensue.  lie  was  to  make  it  known  to 
all,  that  she  was  dangerously  ill ;  she  was  to  uphold  his 
testimony  ;  and  he  was  to  kill  her  in  due  time,  and  take  the 
whole  of  the  insurance.  At  length,  the  farce  was  finished. 
La  Pommerais  gave  to  Mme.  Pauw,  a  poison  difficult  to  de- 
tect, called  digitalline,  the  essential  principle  of  our  common 
foxglove  ;  she  died  unconscious  of  his  deception,  loving 
him  to  the  last,  and  he  claimed  the  515,000  francs  at  the  in- 
surance office.  He  was  suspected,  accused,  and  tried. 
The  old  suspicions  relative  to  his  mother-in-law  were  re- 
vived ;  the  bodies  were  exhumed  and  examined  ;  upon  evi- 
dence entirely  circumstantial  and  technical,  he  was  con- 
victed, and  sentenced  to  be  guillotined.  His  learning  and 
standing  made  the  trial  a  famous  one  ;  his  bearing  during 
the  long  proceedings  was  calm  and  collected ;  he  was 
handsome,  and  had  much  sympathy :  but  the  jury  found 
him  guilty,  and  the  Emperor  refused  to  extend  his  clemency 
to  the  case.  He  was  put  in  a  strait  jacket  and  locked  up 
in  La  Roquette,  the  prison  for  the  condemned. 

The  prison  of  La  Roquette  (or  the  Rocket  Prison)  is  situ- 
ated in  the  eastern  suburbs  of  Paris,  a  mile  beyond  the 
Bastile.  It  does  not  look  unlike  our  American  jails  ;  a  high 
exterior  wall  of  rough  stone,  over  the  top  of  which  one 
31 


362  CAMPAIGNS   OF   A    NON-COMBATANT. 

gets  a  glimpse  of  the  prison  gables,  with  a  huge  gate  in 
the  arched  portal,  guarded  forever  by  sentinels.  Before 
this  gate  is  a  small  open  plot  of  ground,  planted  with  trees. 
Hue  de  la  lioqueite  passes  between  it  and  a  second  prison, 
immediately  facing  the  first,  called  the  Prison  des  Jeunes 
Detenus,  or,  as  we  would  say  in  America,  the  "  House  of 
Refuge."  Standing  between  the  two  jails,  and  looking 
away  from  Paris,  one  will  see  the  great  metropolitan  cem- 
etery of  Pere  la  Chaise,  scarcely  a  stone's  throw  distant, 
and  behind  him  will  be  the  great  abbatoir  or  public  slaugh- 
ter-house of  Menilmontant,  with  the  vast  area  of  roofs  and 
spires  of  Paris  stretching  beyond  it  to  the  horizon.  It 
was  to  this  region  of  vacant  lots  and  lonesome,  glowering 
houses,  that  thousands  of  Parisians  bent  their  steps  the 
night  before  the  execution.  The  news  had  gone  abroad 
that  la  Pommerais  would  not  be  pardoned.  It  was  also 
generally  credited  that  this  would  be  the  last  execution 
ever  held  in  Paris,  since  there  is  a  general  desire  for  the 
abolition  of  capital  punishment  in  France,  and  a  conviction 
that  the  Legislature,  at  its  next  session,  will  substitute  life- 
imprisonment.  This,  with  the  rarity  of  the  event,  and  that 
terrible  allurement  of  blood  which  distinguishes  all  popu- 
laces, brought  out  all  the  excitable  folk  of  the  town ;  and 
at  dusk,  on  the  night  before  the  expiation,  the  whole  neigh- 
borhood of  La  Roquette  was  crowded  with  men  and  women. 
All  classes  of  Parisians  were  there,  —  the  blouses,  or  work- 
ingrnen,  standing  first  in  number;  the  students  from  the 
Latin  Quartier  being  well  represented,  and  idlers,  and  well- 
dressed  nondescripts  without  enumeration,  —  distributing 
themselves  among  women,  dogs,  and  babies. 

Venders  of  gateaux,  muscles,  and  fruit  were  out  in  force. 
The  "  Savage  of  Paris,"  clothed  in  his  war  plumes,  paint, 
greaves,  armlets,  and  moccasins,  was  selling  razors  by  gas- 
light ;  here  and  there  ballad-mongers  were  singing  the 
latest  songs,  and  boys,  with  chairs  to  let,  elbowed  into  the 
intricacies  of  the  crowd,  which  amused  itself  all  the  night 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT.  363 

long  by  smoking,  drinking,  and  hallooing.  At  last,  the 
mass  became  formidable  in  numbers,  covering  every  inch 
of  ground  within  sight  of  the  prison,  and  many  soldiers 
and  sergeants  de  ville,  mounted  and  on  foot,  pushed  through 
the  dense  mass  to  restore  order. 

At  midnight,  a  body  of  cavalry  forced  back  the  people 
from  the  square  of  La  Eoquette.  A  number  of  workmen, 
issuing  from  the  prison-gates,  proceeded  to  set  up  the  instru- 
ment of  death  by  the  light  of  blazing  torches.  The  flame 
lit  up  the  dark  jail  walls,  and  shone  on  the  helmets  and 
cuirasses  of  the  sabre-men,  and  flared  upon  spots  of  the  up- 
turned faces,  now  bringing  them  into  strong,  ruddy  relief, 
now  plunging  them  into  shadow.  When  the  several  pieces 
had  been  framed  together,  we  had  a  real  guillotine  in  view,  — 
the  same  spectre  at  which  thousands  of  good  and  bad  men 
had  shuddered  ;  and  the  folks  around  it,  peering  up  so 
eagerly,  were  descendants  of  those  who  stood  on  the  Place 
de  la  Concorde  to  witness  the  head  of  a  king  roll  into  the 
common  basket.  Imagine  two  tall,  straight  timbers,  a  foot 
apart,  rising  fifteen  feet  from  the  ground.  They  are 
grooved,  and  spring  from  a  wide  platform,  approached  by  a 
flight  of  steps.  At  the  base,  rests  a  spring-plank  or  bascule, 
to  which  leather  thongs  are  attached  to  buckle  down  the 
victim,  and  a  basket  or  pannier  filled  with  sawdust  to 
receive  the  severed  head.  Between  these,  at  their  summit, 
hangs  the  shining  knife  in  its  appointed  grooves,  and  a  cord, 
which  may  be  disconnected  by  a  jerk,  holds  it  to  its  posi- 
tion. Two  men  will  be  required  to  work  the  instrument 
promptly,  —  the  one  to  bind  the  condemned,  the  other  to 
drop  the  axe.  The  bascule  is  so  arranged  that  the  whole 
weight  and  length  of  the  trunk  will  rest  upon  it,  leaving  the 
head  and  neck  free,  and  when  prone  it  will  reach  to  the 
grooves,  leaving  space  for  the  knife  to  pass  below  it.  The 
knife  itself  is  short  and  wide,  with  a  bright  concave  edge, 
and  a  rim  of  heavy  steel  ridges  it  at  the  top  ;  it  moves 
easily  in  the  greased  grooves,  and  mayx weigh  forty  pounds. 


364  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-COMBATANT. 

It  has  a  terrible  fascination,  hanging  so  high  and  so  lightly 
in  the  blaze  of  the  torches,  which  play  and  glitter  upon  it, 
and  cast  stains  of  red  light  along  its  keen  blade,  as  if  by 
their  brilliance  all  its  past  blood-marks  had  become  visible 
again.  A  child  may  send  it  shimmering  and  crashing  to 
the  scaffold,  but  only  God  can  fasten  together  the  warm  and 
throbbing  parts  which  it  shall  soon  dissever.  And  now  that 
the  terrible  creature  has  been  recreated,  the  workmen  slink 
away,  as  if  afraid  of  it,  and  a  body  of  soldiers  stand  guard 
upon  it,  as  if  they  fear  that  it  might  grow  thirsty  and  in- 
satiate as  in  the  days  of  its  youth.  The  multitude  press  up 
again,  reinforced  every  hour,  and  at  last  the  pale  day  climbs 
over  the  jail-walls,  and  waiting  people  see  each  other  by  its 
glimmer.  The  bells  of  Notre  Dame  peal  out;  a  hundred 
towers  fall  into  the  march  of  the  music  ;  the  early  jour- 
nals are  shrieked  by  French  newsboys,  and  folks  begin  to 
count  the  minutes  on  their  watches.  There  are  men  on  the 
ground  who  saw  the  first  guillotine  at  work.  They  describe 
the  click  of  the  cleaver,  the  steady  march  of  victims  upon  the 
scaffold-stairs,  the  rattle  of  the  death-cart  turning  out  of  the 
Rue  Saint  Honore,  the  painted  executioners,  with  their  drip- 
ping hands,  wiping  away  the  jets  of  blood  from  the  hard,  rough 
faces  ;  nay  !  the  step  of  the  young  queen,  white-haired  with 
care,  but  very  beautiful,  who  bent  her  body  as  she  had 
never  bent  her  knee,  and  paid  the  penalty  of  her  pride  with 
the  neck  which  a  king  had  fondled. 

At  four  minutes  to  six  o'clock  on  Thursday  morning,  the 
wicket  in  the  prison-gate  swung  open ;  the  condemned  ap- 
pearpd,  with  his  hands  tied  behind  his  back,  and  his  knees 
bound  together.  He  walked  with  difficulty,  so  fettered  ; 
but  other  than  the  artificial  restraints,  there  was  *o  hesita- 
tion nor  terror  in  his  movements.  His  hair,  which  had  been 
long,  dark,  and  wavy,  was  severed  close  to  his  scalp  ;  his 
beard  had  likewise  been  clipped,  and  the  fine  moustache 
and  goatee,  which  had  set  oft'  his  most  interesting  face,  no 
longer  appeared  to  enhance  his  romantic,  expressive  physi- 


CAMPAIGNS    OF    A   NON-COMBATANT.  3(55 

ognomy.  Yet  his  black  eyes  and  cleanly  cut  mouth,  nos- 
trils, and  eyebrows,  demonstrated  that  Gouty  do  la  Pom- 
merais  was  not  a  beauty  dependent  upon  small  accessories. 
There  was  a  dignity  even  in  his  painful  gait ;  the  coarse 
prison-shirt,  scissored  low  in  the  neck,  exhibited  the 
straight  columnar  throat  and  swelling  chest ;  for  the  rest, 
ho  wore  only  a  pair  of  black  pantaloons  and  his  own 
shapely  boots.  As  he  emerged  from  the  wicket,  the  chill 
morning  air,  laden  with  the  dew  of  the  truck  gardens  near 
at  hand,  blew  across  the  open  spaces  of  the  suburbs,  and 
smote  him  with  a  cold  chill.  lie  was  plainly  seen  to  trem- 
ble ;  but  in  an  instant,  as  if  by  the  mere  force  of  his  will, 
he  stood  motionless,  and  cast  a  first  and  only  glance  at  the 
guillotine  straight  before  him.  It  was  the  glance  of  a  man 
who  meets  an  enemy's  eye,  not  shrinkingly,  but  half-defiant, 
as  if  even  the  bitter  retribution  could-not  abash  his  strong 
courage.  The  dramatic  manner  which  is  characteristic  of 
the  most  real  and  earnest  incidents  of  French  life  had  its 
fascination  for  la  Pommerais,  even  at  his  death-hour.  Not 
Mr.  Booth  nor  Mr.  Forrest  could  have  expressed  the  rally- 
ing, startling,  almost  thrilling  recognition  of  an  instrument 
of  death,  better  than  this  actual  criminal,  whose  last  winkful 
of  daylight  was  blackened  by  the  guillotine.  It  reminded 
one  of  Damon,  in  the  pitch  of  the  tragedy  :  — 

"  I  st'jnd  upon  the  scaffold  —  I  am  standing  cm  my  throne." 

His  dark  eye  was  scintillant ;  his  nostril  grew  full ;  his 
shoulders  fell  back  as  if  to  exhibit  his  broad,  compact  figure 
in  manlier  outline  ;  he  seemed  to  feel  that  forty  thousand 
men  and  women,  arid  young  children  were  looking  upon  him 
to  see  how  he  dared  to  die,  and  that  for  a  generation  his 
bearing  should  go  into  fireside  descriptions.  Then  he 
moved  on  between  the  files  of  soldiers  at  his  shuffling  pace, 
and  before  him  went  the  aumonicr  or  chaplain,  swaying  the 


366  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NON-TOMIiATANT. 

crucifix,  behind  him  the  executioner  of  Versailles  —  a  rough 
and  bearded  man  —  to  assist  in  the  final  horror. 

It  was  at  this  intense  moment  a  most  Avonderful  spectacle. 
As  the  prisoner  had  first  appeared,  a  single  great  shout  had 
shaken  the  multitude.  It  was  the  French  word  "  Voila!" 
which  means  "  Behold  I"  "  See  !  "  Then  every  spectator 
stood  on  tiptoe ;  the  silence  of  death  succeeded ;  all  the 
close  street  was  undulant  with  human  motion  ;  a  few  house 
roofs  near  by  were  dizzy  with  folks  who  gazed  down  from 
the  tiles ;  all  the  way  up  the  heights  of  Pere  la  Chaise,  among 
the  pale  chapels  and  monuments  of  the  dead,  the  thousands 
of  stirred  beings  swung  and  shook  like  so  many  drowned 
corpses  floating  on  the  sea.  Every  eye  and  mind  turned  to 
the  little  structure  raised  among  the  trees,  on  the  space 
before  La  lioquette,  and  there  they  s*w  a  dark,  shaven,  dis 
robed  young  man,  going  quietly  toward  his  grave. 

He  mounted  the  steps  deliberately,  looking  toward  his 
feet;  the  priest  held  up  the  crucifix,  and  he  felt  it  was 
there,  but  did  not  see  it ;  his  lips  one  moment  touched  the 
image  of  Christ,  but  he  did  not  look  up  nor  speak ;  then,  as 
he  gained  the  last  step,  the  bascule  or  swingboard  sprang 
up  before  him  ;  the  executioner  gave  him  a  single  push,  and 
he  fell  prone  upon  the  plank,  with  his  face  downward ;  it 
gave  way  before  him1,  bearing  him  into  the  space  between 
the  upright  beams,  and  he  lay  horizontally  beneath  the 
knife,  presenting  the  back  of  his  neck  to  it.  Thus  resting-, 
he  could  look  into  the  pannier  or  basket,  into  whose  saw- 
dust lining  his  head  was  to  drop  in  a  moment.  And  in  that 
awful  space,  while  all  the  people  gazed  with  their  fingers 
tingling,  the  legitimate  Parisian  executioner  gave  a  jerk  at 
the  cord  which  held  the  fatal  knife.  With  a  quick,  keen 
sound,  the  steel  became  detached  ;  it  fell  hurtling  through 
the  grooves  ;  it  struck  something  with  a  dead,  dumb  thump  ; 
a  jet  of  bright  blood  spurted  into  the  light,  and  dyecl  the 
face  of  an  attendant  horribly  red  ;  and  Gouty  de  la  Pomme- 
rais's  head-  lay  in  the  sawdust  of  the  pannier,  while  every 


CAMPAIGNS   OF   A   NON-COMBATANT.  3G7 

vein  in  the  lopped  trunk  trickled  upon  the  scaffold-floor  I 
They  threw  a  cloth  upon  the  carcass  and  carried  away  the 
pannier  ;  the  guillotine  disappeared  beneath  the  surround- 
ing heads  ;  loud  exclamations  and  acclaims  burst  from  the 
multitude ;  the  venders  of  trash  and  edibles  resumed  their 
cheerful  cries,  and  a  hearse  dashed  through  the  mass,  car- 
rying the  warm  body  of  the  guillotined  to  the  cemetery  of 
Mt.  Parnasse.  In  thirty  minutes,  newsboys  were  hawking 
the  scene  of  the  execution  upon  all  the  quays  and  bridges. 
In  every  cafe*  of  Paris  some  witness  was  telling  the  incidents 
of  the  show  to  breathless  listeners,  and  the  crowds  which 
stopped  to  see  the  funeral  procession  of  the  great  Marshal 
Pelissier  divided  their  attention  between  the  warrior  and 
the  poisoner,  —  the  latter  obtaining  the  preponderance  of 
fame. 

I  wonder  sometimes,  if  the  ultimate  penalty,  however 
enforced,  greatly  assists  example,  or  dignifies  justice.  But 
this  would  involve  a  very  long  controversy,  over  which 
many  sage  heads  have  sadly  ached. 

In  the  open  daylight,  when  my  face  is  shining,  and  my 
life  secure,  I  take  the  humanitarian  side,  and  denounce  the 
barbarities  of  the  gibbet. 

But  when  I  come  down  the  dark  stairs  of  the  daily  paper 
office,  after  mid«ight,  and  see  three  or  four  stealthy  fellows 
hiding  in  the  shadows,  arid  go  up  the  black  city  unarmed 
with  my  pocket  full  of  greenbacks,  I  think  the  gallows 
quite  essential  as  a  warning,  and  indorse  it,  even  after 
seventeen  executions. 

So  end  my  desultory  chapters  of  desultory  life.  It  has 
been,  in  the  arranging  of  them,  difficult  to  reject  material,  — 
not  to  select  it.  I  am  amazed  to  find  what  a  world  of  dead 
leaves  lies  around  my  feet,  as  if  I  were  a  tree  that  blos- 
somed and  shed  its  covering  every  day.  There  are  baskets- 
full  of  copy  still  remaining,  from  which  the  temptation  is 
great  to  gather.  It  is  sad  to  have  written  so  much  at 
twenty-five,  and  yet  to  have  only  drifting  convictions.  I 


368  CAMPAIGNS    OF    A    NOX-COMBATAXT. 

may  have  succeeded  in  depicting  the  lives  of  certain  young 
gentlemen  who  reported  the  war.  All  of  us,  who  were 
young,  loved  the  business,  and  were  glad  to  quit  it.  Foi 
myself,  I  am  weary  of  travel ;  rather  than  publish  again 
from  these  fragments  of  my  fugitive  life,  let  me  weave  their 
material  into  a  more  poetic  story,  softened  by  some  years 
of  stay  at  home. 


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D.  A.  BULEN 

101  RANDOLPH  STREET 


The  War  Between 
the  States 


